Tenebrity
by skaylark
Summary: Twilight had some great ideas, but the execution wasn't always the best. What would the series look like with a little reimagining and some careful attention to detail? Chapter Seven: Bella's getting righteously indignant over the number of people who are lying to her face. Rated M for language and possible exploration of themes in later chapters.
1. Moving Day

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer holds all copyrights etc.**

 **A/N: Many thanks are due to Kyilliki, who graciously agreed to look over this chapter for me.**

* * *

I was regretting my decision to leave Phoenix.

Out of all the places where I had lived over the course of seventeen years, Phoenix was by far my favorite. I liked it much better than Minneapolis or Atlanta or Tampa or even Houston, although that might have had something to do with the fact that Renee – my mother – and I had lived there for three years, six months longer than we had stayed in any other place.

I leaned my head against the car window, watching the familiar scenery – desert and development intertwined – flash by for the last time. I was going to miss the vivid colors, the bustle of the city, and the heat (well, okay, I might be able to survive without the constant risk of sunburn). The weather that day was absolutely perfect, with the thermometer on the dash of Phil's new car reading seventy-five and the sky a bright blue. I had routinely slathered myself with sunblock before stepping outside, of course (probably for the last time in a while, if the average cloud cover of my destination was anything to judge by), so I wasn't too worried about the relentless sunshine.

"Bella?"

With a start, I realized that Renee had been trying to get my attention and I had been too busy thinking about the weather to notice. Stifling a pang of guilt, I turned my head towards my mother and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you packed everything? Your toothbrush, your sketchbook, your schoolbooks…" My mother trailed off, smiling a little anxiously in my direction. "I'm just afraid that you'll have forgotten something important and I'll be out of town."

I smiled a little wider in reassurance. "Everything really important was shipped ahead, remember? My schoolbooks and the rest of my library are waiting in Forks."

I'd dealt with all the details of my relocation, with a little help from my mother's new husband, Phil. Between the two of us, we'd seen to my withdrawal from my high school in Phoenix, enrollment in the only high school in Forks, Washington, and the shipping of all of my important possessions. I had quit my cashiering job with some regret at leaving the bookstore and the owner who had always been kind to me. I'd also spent half of my savings on a new winter wardrobe, since I hadn't owned a winter coat since I was eleven. The rest was firmly reserved for getting a car as soon as possible, since walking everywhere in cold rain didn't seem like a pleasant idea, and I didn't want to inconvenience Charlie any more than I had to.

"Oh, right." Renee hadn't been involved in the details of the move, though she had certainly done the most talking about it. Since my first suggestion of the idea in August, she had gone from guilty opposition to equally guilty support, through a carefully planned propaganda campaign on my part. It was clear that, although she felt bad about sending me off to live somewhere that she had always considered one step away from Tartarus, she really did want to travel with Phil, something that was not easily managed with a child still in school. Phil had also been tentatively supportive, stating that he would be happy for me to travel with them or stay with Renee in Phoenix, but would be just as happy if I were to live with my father in Washington.

It might have been a little martyr-ish of me to insist on exiling myself to my birthplace (and now, I acknowledged, I was simply indulging in melodramatic melancholy), but I could tell that Renee and Phil really wanted to spend time together, something that they hadn't been able to do much since their honeymoon eight months ago. After I realized that Phil was not just another one of Renee's fads, to be discarded as quickly as hot yoga, gluten-free eating, and dreadlocks, I went out of my way to accommodate my mother's romance.

Privately, though, I still found it a little jarring that my thirty-seven year old mother was married to a man who was closer to my age than her own. But then, Renee had always looked younger than her age. In contrast to my brown hair, pale face, and unremarkable figure, all inherited from Charlie, Renee was a sun-kissed blonde with bright blue eyes and a heartwarming smile, which, combined with her arresting figure, served to make her look closer to thirty – or even twenty-five – than forty.

She and Phil really seemed happy. I was sure that my free-spirited yet inexplicably dependable stepfather would be able to take good care of Renee. I would probably even miss his constant jokes and spontaneous weekend trips to wherever he wanted to go. He and Renee were very well-suited. He was the exact opposite of Charlie, which made him better for Renee but also very exhausting to be around.

My woolgathering was interrupted by the appearance of the airport. I shivered slightly as we pulled into the parking garage; perhaps wearing my favorite light shirt had been a mistake, especially when I thought about the temperature in Forks. At least I had a jacket stowed in my carry-on.

The garage was unsurprisingly full. Families were headed away from their holiday spots, college kids unwillingly returning to their studies. Renee insisted on finding a parking space near an entrance so that I wouldn't have to manhandle my luggage too far on my bad ankle, but we had to drive up to level three to find one.

We unloaded my duffel bag and two large, rolling suitcases in silence. Noting the anxious crease in Renee's forehead, I rearranged my features into a cheerful expression. "Hey, mom, look at it on the bright side; at least I'll spend less money on sunblock and visors!"

Renee smiled weakly at the joke, her eyes looking a little watery. Determined to get things moving as quickly as possible, I shouldered the duffel and took the handle of one suitcase, wishing I could manage to pull both at the same time so as to avoid inconveniencing Renee, and headed for the elevator. We crossed the parking lanes and the street and entered the airport, pausing only to check the signs for directions to the proper desk.

"Did you print out your boarding pass?" Renee inquired, eying the long line for check-in.

I didn't have to check my bag to know the answer, but I did so anyway. "Yep, I printed it last night. Here it is, right at the top of my carry-on." I waved the paper reassuringly before tucking it into my pocket and zipping my bag closed once more.

The line to check luggage was, thankfully, short. I gratefully checked my three bags, received my claim ticket, and headed off toward security, Renee in tow.

"Well, this is it," I announced as we joined the end of the short line. "Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to Forks I go."

Renee promptly burst into tears. I felt my own eyes getting a little watery as I hugged my mother tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Bella," Renee sobbed into my shoulder. "Are you sure you want to go? It's not too late to change your mind, I could—"

"No, mom," I interrupted firmly. "I want to go. I know you hate Forks, but… it won't be so bad." I had been repeating those phrases so often that I almost believed them by this point, so hopefully Renee would believe them too. Besides, there were upsides to Forks. It was smaller than Phoenix, for one thing. That meant shorter lines at stores, fewer people in crowded spaces, and fewer aggressive drivers, usually. Renee saw only the lack of opportunities and the difficulty of getting to other places when in a town that was functionally in the middle of nowhere.

"Okay, baby," Renee sniffled, drawing back and giving me a watery smile. "Call me when you get in, okay?"

"I will, mom, I promise." I smiled in what I hoped was a convincing and non-teary way before turning to walk through the gate and out of sight.

I made it through the line quickly, with no security hang-ups to slow things down. I decided to treat myself to an iced tea and a shockingly overpriced cheese sandwich from the nearest café, then found a nice corner of the terminal to tuck into. I put in my earbuds, flipped through my musical selection until I found something suitably depressing for the occasion, and began to munch the bland sandwich.

Two years in Forks, a place that I knew mostly through Renee's unflattering stories. Even though Charlie lived there, I had spent most of my recent summer visitations with him at a nice little resort in sunny California. Renee joked (not without an edge of as much malice as she was capable of having) about it being his only opportunity to see the sun.

But I had done my research before I proposed my solution to Renee. Forks got over a hundred inches of precipitation per year, and was cloudy two-thirds of the time. I was officially going to evolve into a fish, and I didn't even like to swim.

I knew that my reluctance to live in Forks ran a lot deeper than the weather, though. Somehow I couldn't shake the nagging fear that I'd end up following in Renee's footsteps. I could picture it now: being swept off my feet by a wonderful guy, marrying him young, settling down in the backwoods, and then running off with my newborn child. Or – almost worse – staying forever. I wanted to be a journalist, and to do that you had to go places and see people, not live in Forks.

"Now boarding group one onto flight three seventeen to Seattle."

I was in group two, thanks to Phil and his frequent-flyer miles. I tucked my belongings back into my bag, disposed of my trash, and then waited for group two to be called before joining the ragged line.

The boarding agent was professionally cheerful, and I did my best to be equally agreeable, but my smile was forced and my efforts fell flat. Luckily, I avoided physically falling flat, even managing to make the step from tunnel to plane without tripping on the threshold. With no bulky bag to stuff into the overhead rack, I was able to head straight to my seat and settle in.

The only downside to boarding early was that, instead of waiting in the terminal, you had to wait in the much smaller and hotter airplane. I leaned my head against the window and tried not to be too impatient. I had brought a book, but I would much rather sleep through the three-and-a-half hour flight.

The attendant finally announced that the flight was ready for departure. I tried to pay attention to the safety spiel – masks, exits, seat-belts, cushions, rafts, etc. If the plane did go down, I probably had no chance of survival anyway. It would be hard enough for someone who was fit and physically able to survive. I was neither.

The plane sped down the runway and my heartbeat accelerated along with it. The speed always seemed rather unsafe to me, and the stomach-dropping moment when the wheels lost contact with the pavement was enough to make me a little bit panicky. The feeling slowly evaporated as we ascended, and by the time the pilot announced that passengers could use their electronics and leave their seats, I was breathing normally again.

I went back to my music, choosing an album of slow Celtic songs as appropriately gloomy and sleep-inducing. If I closed my eyes, the thrum of the engines was almost soothing. I don't remember falling asleep, but I don't think it took very long.

* * *

It was a four hour drive from Seattle to Forks, which merely served to further emphasize the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere, in this case, meant the expanse of irritatingly green forest that surrounded the bus that I was riding. I sighed and checked my watch, wishing that it was light enough to pull out my book and pass the time more pleasantly. Unfortunately, one of the downsides to lots of clouds was the fact that it was already quite dark despite being an hour before sunset.

An incautious shift of my curled up position made me wince as my ankle throbbed. I had managed to trip in Seattle as I tried to wrangle all of my luggage to the bus, once again re-injuring the sprain which I had dealt with since eighth grade, when I had tried out for the soccer team and gotten run over by one of the bigger girls. My doctor had optimistically predicted that the injury wouldn't trouble me for long, but given my track record for stupidly injuring myself, I wasn't too terribly surprised that it was still around.

A kind, fatherly-type man had taken pity on me and helped me move my belongings, telling me that he had a daughter about my age and he'd want someone to do the same for her if she were ever in that situation. Without that assistance, I wasn't sure that I would have made it to the bus in time, and the idea of hanging around the airport all night to catch the morning bus was horrific enough that I was able to overcome my embarrassment at having had to be helped.

I glanced at my watch again, saw that exactly three minutes had passed since the last time I checked, and gave up, turning to stare out of the window into the darkening woods.

Normally, I wouldn't just be sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I usually found more useful things to do with my time, like reading or homework or writing. None of those options were readily available to me right now, which was why I was engaged in self-pity.

How many things could go wrong? I could think of lots of possible misfortunes. I might fail all my classes. I might not make any friends. I might fight with Charlie. I might break my ankle in the middle of the woods and freeze to death, or be eaten by a bear. I might not be able to find a job that allowed me to save up for college. If that happened, my college options might be limited.

It wasn't as though I hadn't considered all of these things before making my decision. I had a habit of weighing every option and then making a stupid choice anyway, usually because I was trying to be nice to someone else at the expense of myself. In this case, I was trying to be nice to Phil and Renee, and succeeding in making myself miserable.

Well, dwelling on my misery wasn't going to help me reconcile myself to living in Forks. What were the upsides? I would get to spend more time with Charlie, which was nice. Even though I didn't see him very much, I liked him. Hopefully our relationship would strengthen a lot while I lived in Forks. I would get to reconnect with the few people I still remembered from my summers in Forks, like the twins and Billy – though maybe I'd bow out of the fishing trips this time. I wouldn't risk heatstroke or sunburns, probably, except maybe in the summer when I went to visit Renee, wherever she was. I wouldn't have to spend as much on sunblock, as I had joked to Renee. I... surely there had to be more positive things than that.

I couldn't really think of any.

It seemed that my self-reflection had taken more time than I had expected, because we were finally approaching Forks. I spotted a lighted "Welcome to Forks" sign and sighed. It made everything so final.

The bus ground to a halt and I waited for everyone else to start exiting before standing up slowly, collecting my luggage and heading awkwardly towards the door. I was not surprised to see Charlie waiting just outside, a slightly anxious smile on his shadowed face.

"Isabella!"

"Dad!" I exclaimed, torn between greeting him properly and carefully watching my steps as I tried to get out of the bus. He spotted my difficulty and offered a helping arm, steadying me and giving me something to lean on. Once I was standing on solid ground, I turned to grin genuinely at him.

"How are you, Bells?" he inquired, not-so-subtly eying the ankle that I stood gingerly on.

"Good, dad." It was mostly the truth, and I didn't want to ruin our meeting by complaining about anything.

"Your ankle?..." Charlie knew about the old sprain, of course, but didn't know about my habit of re-injuring it every few months.

"Tripped in Seattle," I replied, trying to breeze it off. "It's nothing."

"Oh." Charlie was quiet for a minute, and I took the opportunity to pull the hood of my jacket over my head. It was drizzling slightly, as could only be expected. "Well then, let's get your things in the car and get you home."

'Getting things in the car' turned out to mean me sitting in the front seat of the cruiser while Charlie hauled everything out of the bus and stowed it in the trunk and the back seat. When I had offered to help, he had smiled vaguely and patted me on the shoulder with a 'maybe next time.'

 _I probably should have worn a warmer jacket,_ I mused as Charlie slid into the driver's seat beside me. Forks was exceeding my expectations, it seemed.

"Did you eat dinner in Seattle?" Charlie asked, starting up the car and turning the heater a few notches higher.

"No," I answered ruefully, "and I'm starving."

My father grinned at me, and his cheerfulness was catching. "Traveling always makes me hungry. How about pizza?"

"Sounds perfect," I smiled.

* * *

Charlie called his order ahead and we picked up our pizza on the way home. As I walked in I noticed how little had changed since my last arrival. The kitchen had a new stove, someone had painted over the peeling wallpaper in the entryway, but it was still the house I had spent summers in as a kid. Now we were curled up on the same old couch I remembered sitting on as a child, watching reruns of _I Love Lucy_ and drinking soda. During an ad break, Charlie muted the TV and turned to me.

"You want a car, right, Bells?"

"Yep," I replied. "Walking all over town in the rain doesn't sound too fun." I smiled in an attempt to take any sting away from my too-honest words, reminding myself to watch my mouth better.

Charlie looked a little bashful, sliding his eyes to the side and rubbing his thumb against his can of Dr. Pepper. "Well, I, uh… I went ahead and bought you one when you said you were coming."

"You bought me a car?" I wasn't quite sure that I believed my ears, but I wasn't in the habit of hearing imaginary voices.

"Well, it's a truck, actually. It used to be Billy Black's – remember him from fishing trips?"

"Yeah, sure I remember him. How is he?" I had never owned a car before – I usually just caught the bus when I needed to go somewhere, and had taken my driver's test in a Honda Civic from the late nineties that belonged to our upstairs neighbor. Somehow, I had always imagined myself driving a nice, small, inconspicuous car, but a truck didn't seem too unfathomable.

"He's doing great. Can't leave his wheelchair anymore, but that hasn't stopped him from doing just about everything." Charlie paused, then smiled, a touch shyly. "He and Jacob – you remember him, too? – will be along for dinner tomorrow to drop it off and tell you all about it."

Distracted from memories of enthusiastic games of tag and pie-eating contests with Jacob and his sisters, I grinned, bouncing upright from my comfortable slouch. "How old is it? What does it look like? How well does it run?"

"Whoa, slow down, eager beaver," Charlie chuckled. "It's a Chevy from the 1950s."

I assumed an expression of shock. "It's older than you are? It must be a fossil!"

Charlie snorted and shoved me with an elbow. "Hey, watch your mouth, young lady. I resemble that remark."

I immediately looked contrite, but I was happy to see that he hadn't forgotten our oldest joke: me calling him ancient and him responding appropriately. Before I could ask any more questions about the truck, the commercial break ended and we turned our attention back to the Ricardo family.


	2. Transplanted

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All copyrights etc. are held by Stephenie Meyer.**

 **A/N: Thanks for the positive feedback! Thanks also go to Kyilliki, whose advice continues to improve my writing.**

* * *

I awakened suddenly with the sinking feeling of unfamiliarity. It wasn't as though I hadn't woken up in strange places before, but it never ceased to unsettle me just a little.

I relaxed as I realized that I was in my bedroom upstairs at Charlie's house. I hadn't recognized it at first because the walls were no longer faded pink; someone had repainted them a bright and sunny yellow. A framed picture of a colorful desert hung opposite from the windows, which were covered by vivid orange curtains. My comforter was the same shade, vaguely reminding me of an apricot.

I couldn't suppress my smile as I looked around at all the things that had changed since the last time I had been in here. If I needed evidence that my steady, unchanging father was happy to have me live with him, this was more than enough. He had remembered that Phoenix was my favorite place and was trying, in his quiet way, to make me a little home away from home.

As I pulled the covers back, I realized that I was still wearing the clothes that I had worn the day before. I couldn't remember the last time that I had fallen asleep before putting on my pajamas, if only because I had a tendency to wear pajamas whenever it was socially acceptable, including as soon as I got home from school and all day on the weekends.

Come to think of it, I couldn't remember going to bed the night before. I racked my brain, but the last thing that I could remember was someone throwing a pie at Lucy Ricardo's face.

I made my bed and briefly showered before heading downstairs. Charlie was seated at the small table in the kitchen, absorbed in his newspaper. The remains of a cup of coffee and a plate of potato stir-fry sat off to one side.

"Morning, dad," I greeted him cheerfully, giving him a half-hug on my way to the stove.

Charlie smiled over the top of his paper. "Morning, Bells. How did you sleep last night?"

"Like a baby," I replied, stirring the potatoes that were sitting in the frying pan. "I must have been tireder than I thought."

"You fell asleep in the middle of the show last night," Charlie said, his voice fond. "It seemed a shame to wake you, so I carried you up to bed and tucked you in."

I paused in the middle of reaching up for a plate, realizing that it made sense. "Aww, dad, you shouldn't have. I could have walked upstairs myself and not put you out."

"You were sleeping, Bells. Traveling is always tiring. It wasn't much."

I changed the subject awkwardly, my ears hot with embarrassment. "Did you want any more of this or can I finish it?"

"Eat as much as you want," Charlie answered, burying himself in his newspaper once more.

I took him up on the offer, emptying the pan and chasing the vegetables down with a tall glass of orange juice. Charlie's cooking was good, but I resolved to take over at least half of it in the future. If I was going to be living here, I should be pulling my weight. When I ventured the idea, Charlie approved, but insisted that he cook dinner that night.

Charlie was on his third cup of coffee by the time I was finished with the dishes. I didn't want to interrupt his perusal of the paper, so it was lucky – or maybe just predictable – that everything was still in the same place it had been the last time.

I headed back upstairs and started to unpack. Between the bags that I'd brought with me and the two boxes that had been sent on ahead of me, I had enough to fill the small closet and the large bookshelf adequately. Charlie called up the stairs to ask if I wanted lunch about halfway through Operation: Integrate, and I yelled back that I'd hold out for dinner, since I was sure that it would be absolutely delicious. I was almost sure that I hadn't imagined the embarrassed pride in his final reply.

I didn't have a lot of stuff, but everything I had was important. More than once I got distracted from unpacking by the memories attached to some of the items I pulled out. The hoodie – tattered but intact – that I had worn on my first day of highschool, and the first day of my first job, and the first time Phil had taken me out to a baseball game, and… well, I had worn it a lot. The little ceramic-and-silver trinket box that Renee had bought me one day last summer when we had stopped at a garage sale on a whim.

By the time I had gotten down to the end of the last box, which contained my personal library, I was very tired and more than ready for a break. Packing my books alphabetically turned out to be a great idea, since the last book out of the box was Watership Down, a perennial favorite. I settled down on my cozy new bedspread to read about sapient rabbits for a while.

"A while" accidentally turned into "most of the afternoon." The clock read five-thirty when I finally emerged from the intense focus that always accompanied reading for me. Hazel and his band of fluffy yet dangerous compatriots had just come up with a plan to thwart General Woundwort, and I wanted to continue reading through the climax… but reality called in the form of a noisy truck turning into the driveway.

I tucked Watership Down back into its appropriate spot on my shelf and made my way carefully downstairs, flicking off the overhead light on my way. I was just in time to greet the Blacks as they entered the front door.

Billy (he had always been Billy to me; nobody called him Mr. Black) seemed much smaller than the last time I had seen him, before summer visits with Charlie moved from Forks to California. He hadn't been confined to a wheelchair back then, and I was taller than I had been, so his eternal grin was directed up instead of down.

Jacob, on the other hand, was now much larger than I remembered him. Despite being two years younger than me, he was already at least six inches taller, and his proportions were gawky enough that I suspected he wasn't done growing yet. I felt suddenly shy; I had been expecting the boy I had spent summers as a kid with, making mud pies and splashing in the creek, but he seemed to have disappeared. The Jacob standing in front of me was a total stranger, and I often found myself cottonmouthed around people I was unfamiliar with.

"Isabella!" Billy thundered, his voice at least twice as big as he was. I beamed at him and bent to carefully embrace the frail-looking man, not expecting the strength of the bear hug he returned. A minute later, laughing and breathless, I held my hand out to Jacob, which he briefly shook and released quickly.

"Hiya, Bella," he greeted me, looking almost as awkward as I felt.

"Hey Billy, Jacob!" I welcomed them, stepping back to let them out of the narrow entryway into the living room. "It's so good to see you guys again!"

Billy wheeled himself into the room, pausing to sniff exaggeratedly. "Smells like you made your famous lasagna, eh, Charlie?"

I saw Jacob perk up at this announcement and smiled. Charlie made a mean lasagna, if my memory served me correctly. I usually avoided dairy products, but I would make an exception for tonight.

"You bet," Charlie agreed pleasantly, heading into the kitchen and checking the oven. He pulled the pan of lasagna out and placed it on the counter.

"Jacob, why don't you and Bella run outside and look over the truck while dinner is sitting?" Billy suggested.

"Sure," the boy said, smiling shyly at me. "C'mon."

He held the door open and I ducked under his arm, glancing up at the sky as soon as I was outside. The clouds were heavy and threatening, but it was not raining… yet. I hoped it would hold off until we were back inside.

The truck sat in our gravel driveway in all its ancient gravity. It was large, rust-colored, and looked utterly indestructible. I loved it already.

"It's a 1953 Chevy," Jacob informed me as we walked towards it. "If it was restored, it'd be worth ten, fifteen grand."

"Wow!" I was impressed that a half-century old car was still running without being owned by a collector or something. "Why didn't you restore it and sell it?"

Jacob shrugged. "Too expensive, too hard to get parts, too much time and work involved. I gotta get through school, y'know."

"Oh," I said. "I see." I didn't really, since I had no idea what it would take to restore a car at all, let alone one like this, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so I believed him.

"It's manual – you do know how to drive a clutch, right?" Jacob interrupted himself anxiously. I nodded and he continued, looking relieved. "If you shift too hard, it has a tendency to quit unexpectedly… and it sticks sometimes when you go to reverse. Aside from that, it runs real well."

I nodded again, filing the information away in my head. The quirks of the truck might make driving it a little more challenging, but it was nice that it had some age, some character to it.

"Wanna give her a spin?" Jacob asked, holding a key out to me. "The lasagna is gonna be sitting for at least ten minutes."

Jacob's smile was infectious and I found myself finally feeling at ease around him. "Sure! Let's try it out!" I took the key from him and we hopped into the cab of the truck. I felt suddenly small in comparison with the big vehicle; I was used to small, suburban cars, not monsters like this.

It took me two tries to move without killing the engine. Jacob suppressed a snicker (probably because I glared at him, practically daring him to say anything to me), but let me work it out by myself. Eventually I pulled slowly out of the driveway, being careful to avoid clipping Charlie's cruiser.

I was not the best driver – that required more practice than I had – but I did manage not to run into or over anything on our short tour of the neighborhood, and I only killed the engine one more time, trying to stop at a stop sign. By the time I pulled back into the driveway, I was fairly confident that I could make it to school. I was also pretty sure that Jacob and I should be friends. Now that he had had a chance to warm up to me, he was cracking jokes and making groan-worthy puns at every opportunity.

"What's the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants?" he inquired impishly as I brought the truck to a stop.

"I have no idea," I replied, shutting off the motor and opening my door.

"One's a crusty bus station and the other's a busty crustacean." He hopped out of the truck and I couldn't see his face, but I was fairly sure that he was smirking.

"That's terrible," I groaned, slamming the door behind me. "Really, Jake? Really?"

"It's funny," he argued, following me towards the house. "You should laugh."

"Ha-ha," I shot sarcastically over my shoulder as I entered the house. The smell of lasagna and brownies greeted me and I inhaled appreciatively, groan-worthy pun forgotten.

Billy and Charlie were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, plates of lasagna in their laps, studiously watching the game. Charlie turned his head and smiled at me as I entered the living room, waving me towards the kitchen. "Meat's on the left, meatless on the right," he informed me.

The meatless lasagna hadn't been touched yet, so I didn't feel bad about taking a nice big piece. I perched on the arm of the couch next to Charlie, tried to figure out what was happening in the basketball game that was on, and gave up after a few minutes to focus on my food. It didn't disappoint – sixteen years of bachelorhood had honed Charlie's culinary skill to perfection.

By the time the Seattle SuperSonics had lost to the Orlando Magic by what I was told was a sizeable margin, everyone was ready for brownies. I managed to get them out of the oven without burning myself even once, an accomplishment that was sarcastically applauded by the others. I skipped the vanilla Breyers in favor of the fresh raspberries I found in the fridge and we all settled down once more to have a proper chat.

"Rachel is holding her own at Wasu," Billy announced with pride.

"Wasu?" I queried, realizing a moment later that it was a little obvious.

"Washington State University. Wasu," he clarified. "She had a little trouble getting adjusted last year, but from what she said over the break, she's really enjoying her sophomore year."

It was hard to believe that Rachel Black, who I distinctly remembered as a wild girl with absolutely no interest in academia, was enjoying college, but stranger things had happened. "How is Rebecca?" I asked.

"How's her husband treating her?" Charlie added. Right, husband. She had one of those, didn't she? I knew I'd heard something to that effect, but it was still a shock. The twins were less than three years older than me, and the idea that one of them could be married already was… really weird.

"Rebecca's doing great," Jacob answered, smiling shyly in my direction. "She and Sol sent us a Christmas card from some surfing competition in Australia."

"Australia, wow. Is she still, uh, painting?" I thought – hoped – it was Becca who had been the painter.

"Yeah," Jacob nodded eagerly. "She's pretty good at it. You'll have to see some of the stuff we have hanging in the living room sometime."

"I'd love to," I agreed, happy with the subtle invitation.

"You got any college plans, Bella?" Billy asked after a pause that was just long enough to be awkward.

I shrugged. "Nothing concrete, no. There's a couple places with good English and journalism courses that I'm looking at, but I haven't quite made my mind up yet." I did have lists, though. Lots and lots of lists covering every possible aspect of the decision. I was fairly confident that I'd be able to make an informed choice by the end of my junior year, then apply early in my senior year and get on the fast track. My grades were good enough for that, at least.

"Journalism, huh? You like ferreting out secrets?" Billy chuckled, exchanging a significant glance with Charlie. "You gonna start shadowing your old man to find out what he's up to?"

My curiosity was piqued. Were there any secrets to be ferreted out? I liked a good discovery as much as the next person – maybe slightly more, given my tendency to stick my nose in places it didn't belong.

Charlie threw a pillow in Billy's direction with a mock scowl. "Bells and I don't need to keep secrets from each other," he mumbled, "unless it's Christmas or something."

"Christmas is done, so no more secrets until… oh, say, June. Then it'll be Christmas again, at least according to the stores," I joked, putting the matter aside for the moment.

Jacob guffawed, which was a very large and somewhat out-of-place sound for our small living room. I liked it. It reminded me somehow of the broad expanses of Arizona.

Billy slapped his knee and winked at me. "Better start planning for Halloween soon, then."

"I'll remember that." I did have my outfit planned already, as a matter of fact, but that wasn't something that I really needed to talk about right then, and I hadn't actually put the outfit together yet.

After another slightly awkward pause, Billy brought up the basketball game and the three guys lapsed into what sounded suspiciously like a foreign language. I knew a few things about baseball – it would be difficult to spend more than an hour around Phil without picking up at least a little bit about the sport – but basketball was not something that I was familiar with, so I excused myself and started washing the dinner dishes. By the time I was done, the conversation was winding down and Billy was starting to make noises about heading out.

"Harry was gonna swing by and pick us up in twenty, but I think I'll call him and ask him to come sooner," he rumbled, glancing at his watch.

"Absolutely not," Charlie overruled. "I'll drive you home."

"Well now, I wouldn't want to put you out," Billy demurred gruffly, digging a flip phone out of his pocket. "Harry's not far, and – "

"Out of the question," Charlie interrupted, fishing car keys from his jeans. "The only reason you need a ride is because you just sold me your truck, so I gotta take you back."

"Well," Billy hesitated, then yielded suddenly. "Sure, if you want."

"You'll be okay, Bells?" Charlie asked, hesitating just inside the door with a cautious glance my way.

I shooed him out the door. "I'll be fine, dad. Don't worry about me."

"Bye, Bella," Billy called, wheeling himself over the threshold with ease. "Good to see you again."

"Bye," Jacob added, turning shy again and refusing to make eye contact as he followed his father out. "See you later."

"Goodbye, guys," I shouted, hanging the dishtowel over the fridge handle to dry. The rumble of Charlie's cruiser pulled away a moment later as I stuck the leftover lasagna into the fridge and sneaked one more brownie before covering the pan and putting it back in the mostly-cooled oven.

"Right," I muttered to myself, glancing at the clock. It was only ten, but I needed to get back into school sleeping habits sometime, I figured. With that cheerful reflection, I headed upstairs, pulled Watership Down from my shelf once more and tucked myself into my new bed.

It started to rain as I read all about Bigwig infiltrating the dictatorial warren, with the result being that I didn't hear Charlie's car pull back into the driveway. My first warning of his return was his heavy tread on the stairs a moment before he peeked tentatively through my open door.

"Need anything, Bells?" he asked with an anxious smile. "Just wanted to make sure before I went to bed."

"I'm great, dad, thanks for checking," I reassured him. "Uh, thanks. For the truck and everything. It was really nice."

Charlie shrugged, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. "I knew Billy wanted to sell it, and I knew you wanted to buy something, so it just made sense, I guess. Glad you like it."

"It's great. Thanks."

"Well, uh, goodnight. Sleep well, Bells." Charlie smiled one more time and retreated back down the stairs. I tucked a bookmark into my book and turned off my lamp before snuggling down. Sleep was a long time in coming, but eventually I drifted off.


	3. Clean Slate

**Disclaimer: This is fanfic and I don't own anything.**

 **A/N: More thanks to Kyilliki for her help in fleshing out the characterizations here.**

* * *

I woke to the sound of my alarm angrily blaring much too close to my head. Blearily, I rolled over and hit what was probably off but might have been snooze. Why was my alarm on? I hadn't heard that sound since… since school.

Right, it was Monday, and I was about to start the second half of my junior year at Forks High. The weekend had passed much too quickly for my taste, and the dreaded day had arrived. I didn't like changing my habits or trying new things – not without lots of forethought, anyway – and it had been too long since the last time I had switched schools. I had gotten out of practice.

I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, debating whether or not I could get away without showering so I could close my eyes. My alarm decided the question for me by going off again. I hit the off, briefly considered throwing the whole thing through the window, then decided against it and dragged myself out from under the covers.

"Damn mornings, damn the American school system, and damn the politicians who won't change anything about it," I grumbled on my way to the bathroom. The hot shower improved my mood dramatically, and by the time I was downstairs in the kitchen I was feeling tentatively optimistic about the whole thing. I scarfed down some cereal with rice milk, threw on my heavy coat, grabbed my book-bag, and headed out to the truck.

I had made the short drive twice already, once just to scope the place out and once to get my class schedule and a map of the small campus, so I wasn't worried about finding it. I arrived in the parking lot with eleven minutes to kill, so I put in my earbuds and turned on something really peppy to try and hype myself up. It worked a little bit.

By the time I climbed carefully out of my truck, the parking lot was nearly full. Students (the majority of them in clothes that didn't look nearly warm enough) milled about, talking in groups or hurrying towards buildings. They were probably perfectly nice, but they were strangers. I got along great with small groups of people, especially when I knew them, but crowds of strangers? Not my thing. Not at all.

My first class of the day was English, which actually sounded exciting. I filed in with my peers, carefully avoiding eye contact as much as possible. There was a rack for coats, though not many coats were actually there, since apparently I was one of a select few who were dressed appropriately for the weather.

The teacher announced that we were going to be starting on Frederick Douglass' autobiography, appropriately titled _My Bondage and My Freedom_. As he launched into a brief summary of the book's contents, I took the opportunity to peek at the reading list, noting with relief that it was fairly standard as far as American literature went. I spent the rest of the class studiously taking notes, relaxing gradually in the comfort provided by the familiar academic exercise.

The bell buzzed sharply and I started at the intrusive sound. _Too jumpy_ , I criticized myself, sweeping my notebook and pens into my bag and levering myself out of my chair. All around me people were hurrying in various directions or lingering for a brief chat. I checked my schedule as I started walking toward the door.

 _Oof!_ My forward movement was sharply arrested as I ran smack into someone in the aisle. I glanced up over the top of my papers hurriedly, cheeks heating in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, don't worry about it," the boy reassured. He was Asian, a few inches taller than me, and had a pleasant smile that was immediately calming. "You look a little lost – can I help?"

"Oh, uh, I'm looking for Government, Ms. Jefferson, building six?" I had circled all pertinent parts of my itinerary on my map, but somehow I'd managed to shove that into my bag with the rest of my things.

"I'm headed in the opposite direction, but if you walk out with me, I'll point you to it?" he offered, gesturing towards the door.

"Uh, sure, thanks."

"I'm Eric," he informed me as we walked outside. "Eric Yorkie."

"Eric," I repeated, glancing at his face to try and connect the two in my mind. "I'm Bella Swan."

"Chief Swan's daughter?" We had stopped on the sidewalk at this point, and people were pushing past us.

"Uh, yeah. You know him?" I internally groaned a little bit at the reminder that my father was as close to a local celebrity as could be managed in a town like Forks. Everyone knew his name and his face, and everyone had probably heard of his daughter. Lots of people would be assuming that they knew me just because they knew who I was.

"Sure, everybody knows Chief Swan. He's good people." Eric flashed his charming smile again and I found myself smiling back despite my underlying discomfort. "If you're his daughter, you must be good people too. That's six," he continued in the same breath, pointing at a building that looked no different from any of the others. "Good luck in Government!"

"Thanks!" I half-waved as he turned and hurried in the other direction. I was officially acquainted with exactly one person. "One down, three hundred fifty-six to go," I muttered to myself before dutifully heading off in the direction my new friend had indicated.

Government was uneventful. I estimated that they were about three lessons behind where my government class in Phoenix had left off, which meant that I could spend my time alternating between doodling and supplementing the notes I already had.

I remembered to hang onto my map at the end of class, and so was able to find my way to Trigonometry by myself. The girl across the aisle from me came in almost tardy and smiled at me as she hurried to her seat.

"I'd like to welcome a new student to our ranks," the teacher announced after a preliminary greeting. I slumped a little lower in my chair, a lump rising into my throat at the words. Being singled out in class was the last thing that I wanted.

"Miss Isabella Swan," he continued, "recently of Phoenix, Arizona. Wave to the class, Isabella."

I forced a smile – it felt more like a grimace – to my face and weakly obeyed him. He said something about hoping I was enjoying classes so far and he was sure everyone would do their best to welcome me, then moved into the lesson. I let out a breath I wasn't aware that I was holding and shook my head a little. The girl across the aisle caught my eye and smiled again, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly and tossing her mane of chestnut hair.

At the end of class she came over and introduced herself as Jessica Stanley. It turned out that we had Spanish together too, so we ambled in that direction, making awkward small talk. I found out that she was the oldest of four, and she expressed envy of my only child status. She also talked a lot about her new puppy. By the time we were seated in Spanish, I was sure that I would like her.

The minute Spanish was over, she was back at my side. "You probably don't know a whole lot of people here," she said, "so you should sit with me at lunch. I'll introduce you to some cool kids."

"Sounds great," I agreed. It was easy to agree with Jessica; she was a thoroughly agreeable person, if a little more bubbly than necessary. It was disarming and I found myself relaxing a little as we headed towards the cafeteria.

"Guys, this is Bella. Bella, these are the guys," she announced loudly as we stopped in front of a large table with a broad assortment of occupants. I recognized Eric and a girl who looked like a blonde model and had been in English and Spanish, as well as two boys of uncertain ethnicity from Government.

A welter of introductions followed. Despite my best efforts, I only managed to hang on to a few names – there was red-headed Connor, one arm draped casually across the chair of Lauren, the girl whose face I had remembered, and Tyler, the more vaguely Hispanic boy from Gov. I ended up sitting between Jessica and a really nice girl named Angela who slouched in her seat (probably because she had at least six inches on me) and let Jessica do most of the talking.

"What's it like in Phoenix?" Jessica asked brightly.

I took a bite of my pizza before responding. "Hot. Bright. Really… desert-y."

"Did you like it there?" she inquired.

"Yeah, it was nice. I'll miss it, I guess."

"What was your favorite thing about it?"

I paused to think about my answer. There were a lot of things that I really liked about Phoenix, but my favorite thing? "Probably the colors," I admitted. "It was really vibrant. No offense, but aside from all the green, Forks is… a little washed out."

"You're not wrong," Jessica agreed merrily, seeming very unoffended by my bluntness. "Living in a rainforest can be really nice sometimes, but it's really _rainy_. I've always wanted to check out somewhere else, but—" she bit into her pizza and spoke through her mouthful "—I've never had the chance."

"A rainforest?" I asked, curious about her choice of words and not ready to talk about her travel plans. "I thought that was like, the jungle."

"This is the other kind of rainforest. Similar amount of rain, different kind of climate," she informed me.

"Oh." I filed the information away. "Do you like it here?"

"Yeah, lots. You can't beat the PNW for scenery or people, even if the weather's a little bonkers."

"PNW?" I felt a little stupid asking, but unlike Wasu I honestly couldn't come up with any explanation for what appeared to be an odd acronym.

"Pacific Northwest," she explained. "PNW. You'll get used to the local slang pretty quick, don't worry."

"Yeah, probably," I agreed, going back to my pizza. Jessica seemed to understand that I was done talking and turned her attention to the other side of the table, chatting animatedly with the boy to her left and his friends.

I finished eating and got up to dump my plate in the trash, then headed back to my table to scoop up my belongings. I looked down at my map, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go next.

"What's your next class?" Angela inquired kindly, glancing over at the schedule I was clinging to like a lifeboat.

"Uh, biology, I think," I replied, taking a peek at the slot immediately after lunch. I would have honestly preferred chemistry, but that class was already full. Biology it was, then.

"Mike could walk you there?" she offered with a smile. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"Mike is…" Drat. I knew I'd been introduced, but the generic name wasn't ringing any bells.

"He's the tall blond one, Seahawks shirt, other side of Jessica."

I felt like I didn't deserve the understanding in Angela's smile and nodded quickly. "Got it."

Her smile widened before she turned away, tapping Mike's shoulder and whispering briefly to him in passing. He looked up, made eye-contact with me, and grinned cheerfully.

I smiled and waved back, a little shyly. The bell went off just then and in the ensuing chaos I found myself walking towards the exit, Mike at my side.

"Hey, Bella, right?" he greeted me warmly.

I smiled up at him. "Right. You're Mike?"

"Last time I checked, at least." We both chuckled. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"No law against it," I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Why Bella? Why not Izzy or Isabella?"

I bit my lip. "You'll laugh."

"I won't, scout's honor," he promised solemnly.

"Bella Abzug was a famous feminist and one of the first female Congresswomen. I wanted to be just like her when I was little," I admitted, bracing myself for the inevitable 'are you a _feminist_? Eww!' comment that invariably followed my explanation.

"Woah! Should I start calling you President Swan, then?"

"No, I don't think I'm cut out for politics." Phew. Crisis averted. "She's still one of my heroes, but now I think I'd like to be a journalist… or maybe an ice-cream van driver. But probably the journalist thing."

"Cool!" Mike's enthusiasm seemed unfeigned, and I found myself relaxing even more. "My dad – he owns the hipster Cabela – says I'm a born salesman, but I'd really like to be a marine biologist."

"So, are you in it for the dolphins?" I inquired jokingly. "Or is it the sharks you like?"

"Seals, actually. Did you know that Mediterranean monk seals are among the most endangered species in the _world_?"

"I do now!"

"They're the rarest pinniped – that means seal – and there are under six-hundred of them left. Oh, sorry," he broke off, with a rueful smile. "I'm probably boring you."

"No, not at all!" I exclaimed. "It's always great to talk to someone who has a passion. Don't let anyone squelch it."

He smiled at me, relief evident in his expression. "Thanks for not thinking I'm weird."

We had paused just in front of the biology room at some point, though I wasn't sure exactly when we had stopped walking. Mike reached for the door, then checked himself and turned to me.

"Are you going to be insulted if I hold the door for you? I know some feminists don't like it, and I wouldn't want to offend you."

I searched his face for an instant, but found no trace of mockery in his blue eyes. "No, I think everyone should hold doors for everyone else, if they can. But, since it's my first day, I'll let you do the honors."

Mike's affable grin flashed again and he pulled the door open with a flourish. "After you, m'lady."

I heard someone behind us choke and start sputtering. Embarrassed by the possibility of someone teasing us for our joking, I hurried through the door, head down just a little. Behind me, Mike asked someone named Cullen if he was okay and received a grunted negative and a request to tell the teacher that he wasn't feeling well. Maybe this Cullen had just started feeling sick, and it had nothing to do with Mike's goofy gallantry.

I caught a glimpse of an unusually attractive face as the door closed behind me, but the impression didn't linger for long as I sat down at the only table with a vacancy. It turned out that the other seat at the table was normally occupied by Cullen, whose first name I still didn't know. I was torn between being happy that I had a hot lab partner (other people seemed to get really excited about them, so I supposed I should be too) and annoyed that he'd suddenly bailed for no apparent reason.

We weren't doing any labs that day, so it didn't really matter anyway. I paid attention and took diligent notes as the teacher, Mr. Banner, discussed something that was probably really important but honestly just sounded really boring to me

The bell rang and Mike sauntered up as I cleared the top of my desk. I smiled at him over the top of my papers and he returned it cheerfully.

"Next class?"

"Gym," I replied, not having to check my schedule. I was halfway dreading gym; I usually ended up injuring myself at least once every semester, and I doubted that this year would be any different. My ankle throbbed gently as if to remind me that I'd reinjured it recently and had to be extra careful if I didn't want it to become a full-fledged sprain again.

"Me too!" he exclaimed, the enthusiasm in his voice entirely disproportionate to his discovery. "I'll walk you there?"

"Sure," I agreed, turning to head toward the door. On the way out I noticed that something had gouged a big chunk out of the edge of the doorframe, which I must have missed on the way in. Mike noticed it too, and raised his eyebrows a little. Apparently it hadn't been there before Christmas break. We spent the short walk to gym tossing back and forth ever-increasingly ridiculous theories about what had caused it, from vandalism to alien invasions, with the result that we were both a little out of breath from laughter by the time we made it inside.

I managed to survive all the way through the friendly basketball game that was going on by dint of staying as close to the outer edge of the proceedings as was humanely possible at all times. With my help (and my staying out of the way was definitely the most helpful thing I could do), my team handily won.

I ran into Jessica in the parking lot on the way out to my car and we stopped to chat a little more. She started pointing out people as they walked by, giving me their names and brief histories. I did my best to keep up with her rapid-fire explanations, but the only ones that really made an impression were two couples with a fairly unusual story.

"The big one is Emmett, the tiny one is Alice – they're Mrs. Cullen's cousins, I think, and the others are Jasper and Rosalie – Dr. Cullen's sister's kids," she informed me. "She sent them to live with her brother while she does missionary work in Africa or something. There's Edward, too, Mrs. Cullen's younger brother, but he's not here, which is weird because I thought I saw him at lunch."

I watched them walk by, wondering about their unusual circumstances as I tried to remember why the name sounded so familiar. They looked no more alike than any two pairs of conventionally attractive siblings – two of them were tall, slim, and golden-haired, while the other two were dark-haired and wildly opposite in terms of size. They did have some similarities, though – for one, they all walked the same way, with the kind of deliberate grace that marks a dancer or an athlete. For another, they all looked pale and tired, as though they had not slept much the night before or were just getting over the flu.

The errant thought about illness finally made the connection in my head. "Edward Cullen?" I asked, remembering the name. "A kid named Cullen went home sick from Biology. Maybe that's where he is."

"Maybe. Crap! I'm working today," Jessica exclaimed suddenly. "I need to get going or I'll be late for my shift. See you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" I called after her as she darted off as quickly as she did everything else.

On my drive home, I thought over the things I'd learned so far. My social life was shaping up pretty decently, much better than it had been in Phoenix. Sure, there had been some moments where I'd felt like I'd swallowed a golf ball, but it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. I had done the whole 'starting a new school' thing several times before, after all. Maybe Forks wasn't going to be too bad.


	4. First Foray

**A/N: I own nothing. Thanks to Kyilliki for her keen eye and invaluable suggestions.**

* * *

"So, Bells," Charlie began, lowering his newspaper to look at me. I looked up from the vegetable stir-fry that I was cooking and nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"The Blacks are coming over tonight, and if you and Jacob want to go do something fun, well, don't feel obliged to stick around on my account."

"Okay, dad," I agreed, trying to hide my skepticism. I couldn't really think of anything in Forks that I would find particularly fun on a Saturday night. I had never been a party kind of girl, and I doubted that Jacob, as bashful as he could be, would really enjoy going out on the town either.

"And, uh, weren't you planning on looking around for a job sometime soon?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about it." I couldn't in good conscience rely on either of my parents for pocket money, and while my savings account was much fuller than I had expected due to Charlie's generous gift of transportation, I knew that it wouldn't last for too long. I doubted that I could find as nice a job as the cashier position I'd held at the little bookstore back in Phoenix, but I wasn't averse to the idea of waitressing or something similar.

"I ran into Rob Newton yesterday and he mentioned that they're looking for a cashier over at his store. I'm sure he'd be happy to see an application from you, if you wanted to do that." Charlie seemed ill-at-ease in the role of parental advisor, but that wasn't terribly surprising.

"Wow, dad, thanks for the tip." I turned back to the stove just in time to keep the peppers from burning. "Maybe I'll swing by there tomorrow and put in a resume."

"I just want you to be happy, here Bells," Charlie said gruffly, hiding behind his newspaper once more.

My mouth twisted downward as I thought of all the reasons that wasn't likely to happen, but I suppressed any catty remarks in favor of a noncommittal hum. I scraped my stir-fry onto a plate and ate it in silence, then checked my watch. I was supposed to call Renee at some point between lunch and dinner on the East Coast, since I'd only talked to her twice since my initial safe-arrival call. I was eager to do it immediately – I missed my mother and the bright city of Phoenix – so I retreated to my room, where I discovered that I had somehow forgotten to plug in my phone the night before.

"Ridiculous," I muttered, glaring at the blinking red battery symbol. From past experience I knew that it would take at least an hour for the phone to charge to the point of usefulness, which meant that the schedule I had hastily constructed in my head was no longer workable.

Crossly I consulted my to-do list, rejecting one alternative after another until I finally came to one that piqued my interest. I had been in Forks for over a week and yet I still hadn't visited the local library to get a library card, which was something that I needed to fix as soon as possible. I could also stop by the store and pick up some ice cream for dessert that night on my way home.

The Forks Memorial Library was only a block from the high school, so I knew how to get there. It was a long, low building with a cozy-looking exterior. I liked it immediately, and the feeling did not fade as I entered. The selection of books was basic but not inadequate and the librarian was warm and friendly as she helped me sign up for my library card. By the time I exited the building with a small stack of interesting historical novels and the flyer for a nearby farmer's market, I was thoroughly content with my choice of activity for the morning.

Following the directions that the librarian had helpfully penciled on the back of my flyer, I found the farmer's market in just a few minutes. As I pulled into the parking lot, my first impression was of a small, simple collection of stands and tables with a dozen or so people hanging around.

The variety was not overwhelming – this appeared to be a truly local market, not the kind that trucked in extras from warehouses – but I could see some promise. The prices were certainly lower than most health stores, and I was sure that the produce would be good. Local food was best, in my experience.

I filled a bag with apples and pears, another with potatoes, and then added some kale and chard to the mix. I hesitated over grass-fed beef and ended up picking three meals' worth of inexpensive steak that I thought Charlie would like. A small, kind woman with delicate features and hair down to her waist introduced herself as Esme, somehow reminding me of Renee when she smiled. She helped me total all my items and patiently waited while I dithered over whether or not to buy reusable bags. I ended up with three vividly printed canvas sacks to carry my shopping in.

"Do you need any help with getting that to your car?" she inquired, her smile so motherly that I could summon only a momentary flash of annoyance at the fact that I _did_ need help.

"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly, trying very hard not to drop the potatoes or overbalance and fall over into the mud. "Thanks."

"Alice, can you give her a hand?"

A pixie-like girl who at first glance seemed to be no older than fourteen skipped up, gave me a once-over, and casually twitched the top two bags out of my arms. She must have been stronger than she looked, because she didn't seem to have much trouble carrying them.

"Hi! I'm Alice. You must be Bella Swan. It's nice to meet you! Where's your car?"

I blinked at the onslaught. "I have the rusty monolith at the end of the row," I answered, a little bewildered. "How did you know my name?"

As soon as I indicated where we were going, Alice started in that direction. As I hurried to catch up, she glanced back over her shoulder at me with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. "You have a Wildcats lanyard on your keys," she announced. "They're the football team for University of Arizona. Chief Swan has mentioned that his daughter from Arizona is coming up to live with him, so I put one and one together and got four."

"Oh." It seemed a plausible, if unlikely explanation. "I see."

"Also, your wallet is open in the top of your bag and I saw your license."

I looked down and, indeed, my license was clearly visible. "Oh," I said again, feeling a little stupid.

She slowed her steps and I finally caught up with her. As we walked together I covertly studied the side of her face, trying to figure out why she looked familiar. The answer came suddenly as I compared her rapid speech with Jessica's chatter and recalled the first day of school.

"Are you a Cullen?"

The corner of her mouth quirked up into a half-smile. "Sorta. I live with them, anyway. My last name is actually Carter, because I'm Esme's cousin. That makes me a cousin-in-law to Carlisle, who is an actual Cullen."

I blinked again, trying to assimilate the barrage of information. "Cool." I wasn't usually this monosyllabic, was I? "Carlisle is Dr. Cullen?"

"Yep!" We were at the truck now, and Alice managed to open the passenger door faster than I could reach for it, even though she was carrying more than I was. We piled the groceries onto the floor, carefully putting the greens on top so that they wouldn't be crushed by the heavier bags.

I turned to say goodbye to Alice, but her attention was fixed beyond me. I followed her gaze to where a silver Volvo was pulling into the parking lot. The last parking spot was right next to my truck, so I closed the door and flattened myself against the side to let it park. Alice stayed right where she was and I briefly considered reaching out and yanking her back to keep her from being run over, but decided against it.

I held my breath as the Volvo slid smoothly into the spot, missing Alice by about three inches. I must have let out some sort of anxious sound because she glanced back at me and grinned.

"Jazz and I do this all the time," she announced. "I know right where to stand and he knows how not to hit me."

"Jazz?" I queried, unable to connect the name to anything. Alice's mere presence seemed to engender confusion.

Instead of answering, Alice tackled the boy who had just emerged from the car. "Jazz!" she squealed enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh." I was saying that word entirely too much. I felt a little annoyed with myself for suddenly losing all of my conversational abilities, but I couldn't really find anything else to say.

"Alice," he greeted her affectionately, dropping a kiss on her forehead. As he lowered her back down to the ground, I was struck by the height difference between them – he had to be over six feet, and she couldn't be more than five.

"Jazz, this is Bella Swan," she introduced me cheerily, gesturing between us. "Bella, this is Jasper Hale, my first cousin once removed by marriage and also my boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you," I smiled politely, stifling surprise at the casual way she mentioned the familial connection. I briefly scolded myself for yielding to the judgmental nature that was so stereotypically small-town and shook the hand that Jasper offered. His hands were even colder than my own, but his expression was warm enough to make up for it.

"My pleasure," he replied. The faint Southern twang in his voice made the words charming rather than stiff or overly formal and I found myself liking him immediately. My smile became more genuine and I felt a sense of peace and comfort steal over me.

"Ja-azz," Alice wheedled in a sing-song voice. "C'mon, let's go!" She was tugging at his arm, pulling him back toward the market.

"Excuse me, Bella," he apologized contritely, allowing himself to be dragged away. "Have a pleasant afternoon."

"Bye?" The one word was all I managed to get out as I watched them heading away, Alice almost skipping and clearly yammering his ear off. He looked happy about it. _Well, that's love for you,_ I mused. I hopped into my truck, musing over the uneventful day as I drove home. By the time I turned into my driveway, I was finally able to form coherent sentences of more than five words. What was it that had turned my brain to mush all of a sudden? I wasn't normally such a basketcase around energetic people… at least, I didn't think so.

My phone was fully charged when I checked it after putting away the produce that I had just bought. I dialed Renee's familiar number and waited for her to pick up, drumming my fingers impatiently against my nightstand. Three rings later it went to voicemail.

"Hey, mom," I said. "I called to chat with you but it sounds like you're busy. Call me back?" I paused. Talking on the phone always made me a little bit tongue-tied. "Love you. Bye."

Well, there went my schedule again. I sighed and looked over at my bookshelf, wondering if it was worth it to begin a new book when I'd probably be interrupted at any time either by Renee's call or the Blacks' arrival. I preferred to devour my books whole rather than read them in little bits.

It was worth it, I decided, before spending another twenty minutes vacillating between _Interview with the Vampire_ and _The Hunt for Red October_. Both were good reads, and both were upcoming on the English reading list, which made them practical as well as enjoyable. It finally came down to the fact that my gloomy mood was more suited to gothic horror than to a military thriller. And _Interview_ was fifty pages shorter. Double-win. I sprawled across my bedspread and immersed myself in the tragic story of Lestat and Louis.

Louis was in the middle of his spiral into misery and murder when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I bookmarked my spot and hurried downstairs to throw the front door open and welcome Billy and Jacob in with open arms. As soon as they were settled in the living room with Charlie I headed for the kitchen, putting a pot on to boil and emptying a can of tomato sauce into a saucepan to heat up. There was spaghetti for everyone within fifteen minutes and I tucked myself into the overstuffed armchair that belonged to nobody in particular to enjoy my meal and do my best to follow the basketball game that was on.

"Hey, Bella," Billy began during the commercial break.

I nodded politely, unable to answer without choking on the large bite of spaghetti that I had just taken.

"How was your week at school? Getting along with everyone?"

I held up a hand while I finished chewing and swallowing, the whole process taking much longer than it would have if I hadn't been in a hurry. "Oops, sorry. Mostly good. I made a few friends."

"Oh?" Jacob asked. "Anyone I would know?"

I thought over the people that I had met so far. "Mike Newton? Jessica Stanley, uh… some of Dr. Cullen's wards. Some others, but I can't remember last names." An unidentifiable emotion flashed across Billy's face, but I wasn't sure who he was reacting to.

"I go hiking with Mike," Jacob replied cheerfully. "He's a cool guy. Did he finally work up the balls to ask Jessica out?"

I grinned. "They're very happily dating, as far as I can tell." Did Billy disapprove of one of them for some reason? That would explain the expression he had made. I couldn't imagine why anyone would disapprove of either of them, though, so perhaps I was on the wrong track.

"Good on him."

The game came back on and the guys returned to viciously rooting against the TrailBlazers. They seemed like a perfectly decent team to me, but Jacob explained that there was some kind of rivalry between Portland and Seattle about everything, including basketball.

Over the next commercial break I had a question of my own. "Dad, one of my teachers said something about an animal attack yesterday. What's up with that?"

Charlie shrugged. "Something savaged a couple of hikers up on Hoh River. They were there out of season, but that doesn't mean they should have died."

"Animal attack?" Billy asked mildly. "What kind of animal?"

"We're working with Animal Control to figure out what it was – maybe a starving cougar or a big bobcat," Charlie replied.

"Do animals attack often up here?" I asked, wondering if I'd overlooked something in my research.

"No, they usually keep to themselves. A critter'd have to be pretty desperate to take on one human, let alone two," Billy soothed.

"Maybe it was a wolf pack," Jacob chuckled, but fell silent at a sharp glance from his father. He cleared his throat uncomfortably to fill the silence.

"Scary," I murmured. In Arizona we had scorpions and big spiders, but no large, hungry cats… or wolves. "I'll have to remember not to go hiking by myself."

"Cougars come out of the woods once in a while, Bells. They can be nasty sometimes. I'll pick you up some pepper spray next time I swing through town."

"Thanks, dad." I had had a can of pepper spray back in Phoenix, but you couldn't take them on airplanes and I hadn't wanted to not have it for the two weeks after I'd shipped my boxes off, so I had left it for Renee. "I could get it myself if it'll be a bother for you."

"It's my job to keep you safe, Bells," Charlie grunted, not making eye contact.

We were both saved from further displays of affection by the end of the ad break. I got up to take my dishes to the sink and get out some bowls for ice cream.

Wait, the ice cream. _Oh no!_ The little farmer's market and odd Alice not-Cullen (Carver? Cooper? Carter? something like that) had driven my errand right out of my mind. I had completely forgotten to stop by the store on my way home from the library.

"I goofed," I announced loudly toward the living room. "No dessert unless Jacob wants to come and pick up some ice cream with me."

Jacob bounced out of his seat on the couch and grinned at me. "Can do. Who's driving?"

"I can," I offered. He pouted, and I felt guilty. "Unless you really want to," I added, trying to make it sound more like part of my original statement and less like a tacked-on afterthought.

"Just kidding, you can drive." Jacob headed for the door and, with a roll of my eyes, I followed him, wiping my hands dry on my jeans and grabbing my wallet off the counter.

"Shotgun!" Jacob whooped, jumping into the truck with ease.

"I should make you sit in the bed," I threatened, hauling myself into the driver's seat.

"What am I, a dog?" Jacob protested over the earsplitting roar of the truck's engine turning over.

"Yes," I laughed. "A Newfoundland puppy. Clumsy and friendly and very large."

"Woof," Jacob said. "I'll think about sticking my head out the window and panting, but I draw the line at being stuck in the bed."

"Deal."

"Deal."

I pulled out of the driveway carefully and made the short drive to the local little store. Jacob had his door open by the time I made it into a parking spot and was in the store by the time my feet were on the ground. I was laughing at his enthusiasm as I walked through the dimly-lit entrance, only to be confronted by a grinning Jacob holding a gallon tub of off-brand vanilla.

"Quick work," I praised him.

"I figured that as long as I was being a puppy I might as well play the part," he said with a wink, gesturing grandly toward the self-checkout beside him. "It's scanned and everything, you just need to pay."

"I knew there was a catch," I grumbled jokingly, pulling cash out of my wallet as I walked over. "There's always a catch."

The machine accepted my bills without complaint and we traipsed out of the store light-heartedly. The drive home was punctuated by Jacob's bad jokes _("A dyslexic man walks into a bra.")_ and my groans _("Jaaaacooob!")._

As soon as we got home I dished up ice cream for everyone. The game was over by the time we were all finished. Billy and Jacob said their goodbyes and Charlie followed them out to their car, talking animatedly with Billy for another ten minutes before they finally drove away. I watched them through the window as I scrubbed the dinner dishes, smiling at how happy Charlie looked.

I was just finished putting the dishes away when he came back inside. He hugged me goodnight and went off to his room. I stifled a yawn and determined to follow suit as soon as I got the spaghetti into the fridge.

Sleep was not long in coming that night.


	5. Tongue-tied

**Oh my gosh, I'm _finally_ back! I do apologize for the long absence, and I'll try not to let it happen again. I don't own any of this, etc.**

* * *

My day was not going particularly well. I woke up groggy after only five hours of sleep, too late to get a shower or breakfast (and I burned my tongue on the cup of coffee I hoped would help me wake up a little) before hurrying off to school. On my way out of the house, I slipped on the icy porch and landed in an undignified heap at the bottom of the steps. I killed the engine on my truck twice on the drive to school, once just as a stoplight turned green, which resulted in the impatient honks of the three cars behind me.

Things hadn't gotten better once I had arrived (seven minutes late) at my first class of the day. I fell asleep for fifteen minutes in Gov, missing some important test prep for the exam we would be taking on Friday. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could beg notes from Tyler or Ben. In Trig, I had been called on no fewer than three times, and once been unable to answer the question. My stomach was still churning from the mixture of anxiety and embarrassment that always accompanied being singled out in class as I sat in Spanish, stumbling and slurring my way down a list of vocabulary words.

"¿Qué sabes de el contemporáneo arquitectura?" My tongue felt like a wooden block as I pronounced the unfamiliar sounds.

"Nada," my conversation partner – Lauren, who sat with us at lunch sometimes but always ignored me – replied. "¿Qué sabes de estatuas clásicas?"

"Ellos son bonitos."

"Bonitas," she corrected. I sighed and slumped back in my chair, wishing once again that I had taken my two required years of foreign language in Phoenix, which had an excellent French program. Spanish was probably more practical, but at least I could pronounce French words.

Well, there was no use crying over spilt milk. I looked back down at the vocabulary list, mouthing the words to myself and trying to commit them to memory.

I felt like a pardoned criminal when the bell rang during my third clumsy attempt to make conversation in Spanish. I thought Lauren looked relieved to be done with my stilted sentences and frequent mispronunciations, and I couldn't really blame her. I was six months behind the rest of the class, and it showed. I would have to spend extra time going over the material that I had missed.

I swept my belongings into my bag and trudged toward the door, wondering if my day could get any worse. I didn't think so, but it wouldn't do to tempt fate. I apologized silently to any higher powers that might exist and knocked on the doorframe as I passed it.

"Hey, Bella!" Jessica's unmistakably cheerful voice was a welcome distraction from my gloomy thoughts. I slowed my steps until she bounced alongside, grinning up at me with comradely glee.

"Hey, Jessica," I greeted her, briefly resenting her for looking so comfortably warm when I was freezing. I winced at how petty my thoughts were becoming. Maybe it was the fact that I was cooped up in this small town… but no, that was petty too. I forced a smile to my face and hoped that my mood would soon catch up.

"How was your weekend?" she inquired, seeming completely unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. "Mine was great! Mike took me out on a surprise date to this great restaurant in Port Angeles – it's actually called La Belle Italia, which is hilarious and I giggled every time I thought of it because it's almost like a restaurant named after you! – and the food was great and he was too utterly sweet and I don't know how I got so lucky."

I wasn't sure how she'd gotten that much out without so much as a breath or a pause, but it was impressive. As she talked I nodded and tried to make the appropriate facial expressions, but they didn't feel very convincing to me. It took me a minute to realize that she was finished and staring at me expectantly. I smiled vaguely and tried to remember what she had asked at the beginning of her onslaught. How I was doing? What I had been doing?

"Good," I finally answered. That covered most possible questions, and, while not strictly true, was more polite than the truthful version.

"Good how? Did you go anywhere? See anyone?" she pressed, steering me not-so-subtly towards the cafeteria, which I had almost walked right past.

I assumed she was talking about the weekend. "I went to a farmer's market and we had the Blacks – Billy Black and his son, Jacob – over for dinner." That was all, right? It sounded so banal when I said it like that.

"How fun!" Jessica exclaimed, yanking the cafeteria door open and ushering me inside. "Mike and I went for an overnight hike with Connor and some of Mike's friends from work. It got pretty cold, brrr."

I remembered the conversation I had had with Billy and Charlie over the weekend. "You could have been in danger!" I gasped, staring at Jessica with wide eyes. "There was a cougar that attacked some hikers – it's still out there somewhere!"

Odd little Alice Carter had a queer expression as she passed us by, her walk so rhythmic it almost looked like she was dancing to unheard music. She was probably laughing at my citified ways, I reflected ruefully.

"Relax." Jessica was definitely laughing at me, sounding supremely unconcerned. "There were too many of us for even a hungry cougar to be interested in. We were fine, I promise."

I let her pull me through the food line, not entirely convinced but unwilling to press the issue any further. We squeezed in at the usual table, where conversation centered on the two hikers. I ate my veggie burger in silence, not wanting to embarrass myself any further with the fearless local population. Unfortunately for me, my lack of contribution did not go unnoticed.

"You got anything like that down in Phoenix, Bella?" Tyler challenged, with what I suspected was mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

A spirit of fun – or maybe just Jacob's bad influence – must have suddenly possessed me, and I found myself playing along with his light-heartedness. "Oh, sure," I replied, trying to sound breezy. "Worse, even. We've got the _chupacabra_ , when it visits from Mexico."

"What's a chupacabra?" Angela asked with a puzzled frown.

"Oh, it's pretty scary. It's like, this lizard-dog that hops like a kangaroo and sucks blood from animals and people." I didn't add that most people considered it to be firmly in the realm of imagination, though surely none of my audience was taking me that seriously.

"That's, like, an urban legend though, right?" Lauren asked. It was the first time she'd ever directly spoken to me out of class and I stared at her for a moment, probably looking like a total idiot.

"Um, yes," I finally replied, carefully not rolling my eyes at the obviousness of the response. "We don't actually have vampires in Arizona."

"Oh, right." She looked a little embarrassed and I felt bad for making fun of her, even though it had mostly just been in my head. It wasn't like I hadn't asked any dumb questions about Washington, after all. I smiled tentatively at her, but she tossed her hair and looked away.

 _Oh well._ I shrugged to myself as the bell rang and everyone began hustling out of the cafeteria. Not everyone was going to like me all the time, and that was okay. I dragged myself out of my chair, dumped my unfinished veggie burger into the nearest trash can, and slouched my way towards the Biology classroom. My brief spate of high spirits had passed and I was once again feeling moody and dissatisfied. I couldn't help scowling at the flat grey sky that pressed so stiflingly down on me. I missed the vast expanses of desert. Forks was going to make me claustrophobic.

I walked into the classroom and immediately had to stifle a groan. I had been enjoying the freedom of a desk that was all my own, but the elusive Edward Cullen (I assumed it was him, anyway, as I didn't remember his face at all from my one brief glimpse – he had the same features as Esme but on him they looked aristocratic rather than delicate) was lounging comfortably in his previously vacant place.

"Uh, hey," I greeted him uncertainly as I approached. He looked up and smiled and I was momentarily rendered breathless by how _golden_ his eyes were. His lips were moving and I shook myself, trying to catch his words.

"… must be Bella Swan. I'm Edward, Edward Cullen."

"N-nice to meet you," I stammered. What was it about him and his extended and adopted family that removed my ability to form coherent thoughts? Alice and Jasper had left me just as speechless. All the progress I'd made on being comfortable in Forks was flying out the window, my natural shyness reasserting itself at an alarming pace.

"Sorry to leave you partnerless for the week," he apologized smoothly. I realized that I was still standing stiffly by the desk and half-collapsed into my seat as he continued. "I came down with some kind of virus, knocked me right out."

"That's lame," I sympathized, finding that it was easier to talk to him if I wasn't looking at his face.

"How are you liking Forks so far?" he inquired, sounding as though he was genuinely interested instead of just making small-talk.

"It's… okay," I answered cautiously, leaning back into the seat and trying very hard not to look at him out of the corner of my eye.

He scoffed politely. "That's the least convincing thing I've heard all day. Try again."

"Some things are okay," I clarified, unable to summon irritation at having been caught in a lie. "I have friends here. I… like not getting sunburned."

"Hmm. You do look a little pale for a desert-dweller," he commented, smiling in a way that left my mouth a little dry.

I realized belatedly that I was looking at him again and jerked my attention back to the front of the room, where the teacher seemed to be taking an awfully long time to get the lesson started. "You've seen my father," I laughed, a little shakily. "He makes me look tan."

He laughed along with me, even though it wasn't really that funny. It felt like he was staring at the side of my face, but I couldn't tell for sure without looking at him again. I decided to risk it, and – yes, yes, he was making unabashed eye contact. I was momentarily rendered speechless, my heart racing and my cheeks feeling hot. I was unused to this level of attention from someone who looked as much like a magazine cover as Edward Cullen.

Abruptly he turned his head, leaning away from me and picking up his pencil. Confused, I looked toward the front of the classroom, where nothing appeared to have changed. I looked back at him, only to find him watching me out of the corner of his eyes.

"Mr. Banner is about to start," he predicted. Sure enough, the teacher suddenly had everything in order and began the process of getting everyone's attention and starting the lesson.

I stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, trying to muster up the focus to take notes, but there was a very large part of me that wanted to look over and see what Edward Cullen was doing. Is this what people meant when they complained about teenagers and hormones? I'd never personally experienced the phenomenon, but I had read about it. People didn't mention how pleasantly disconcerting it was… or maybe they did, and I'd just never had a frame of reference for it before.

Mr. Banner was saying something about a lab. Oh, right, it was Monday. It had been scheduled for Friday, but apparently not all of the necessary parts had been present, so it had been put off to the next school day. I hadn't been worried about not having a partner, since I had done a similar lab back in Phoenix – which almost felt like cheating, but it wasn't my fault that Forks didn't have an AP Biology class that I could take.

"You'll be using the microscopes – and please be careful with them, they're easily broken – to identify the stages of mitosis in onion root tip cells," he explained. I refrained from zoning out, even though he had gone over the exercise twice the previous week and I was pretty sure I remembered everything. Listening one more time wouldn't hurt.

A microscope and a box of slides were deposited at our table. I slid them into the middle, so that Edward could reach them too. He smiled sideways and gestured toward them with long fingers, which I assumed to be a request that I get things started. I dropped the first slide I picked out of the box, having to scramble madly with shaking fingers to get it off the desk. Was he smirking? My face heated as I inserted the slide into the microscope and peered through the eyepiece, fiddling with the focus until I could see the cells clearly.

"Prophase," I declared confidently, beginning to remove the slide. Edward's hand shot out, stopping just short of my fingers, and I hesitated, looking up to meet his eyes. _Oops. Bad idea._ I couldn't look away from him.

"You seem very sure of yourself," he commented, sounding skeptical.

"I am," I replied. It wasn't a difficult lab even for someone who hadn't done it before.

"You're probably right, but would you mind if I checked? Just to make sure?"

"Go ahead." I shrugged, trying to swallow the annoyance of having my competence questioned. I pushed the microscope toward him, putting on a smile that I didn't really feel.

He looked at me for what felt like forever. I kept the smile pasted on my face, waiting for him to take the microscope. Finally – _finally_ – he glanced away, looking rueful. "No, I believe you. Next slide?"

I almost kept staring at him, surprised I had won so easily, but my sense of self-preservation kicked in and I looked down at the table instead. "You can identify the next one," I offered, pushing the box of slides toward him.

He flashed a crooked smile as he reached for the box, and I found myself wondering if he'd be interested in me if I were half as attractive as he was. Or attractive at all, for that matter. But no – he was way out of my league and my brief flight of fantasy had no place in biology class. In the time it had taken me to chide myself, he had swapped out the slides with perfect ease. He peered into the microscope for a mere instant before pulling back.

"Anaphase."

I itched to dispute it, to prove him wrong, but he was probably just as right as I had been, and just because he had annoyed me was no reason to be rude in return. I managed a vague sort of smile and reached out to pull the microscope back toward me at the same time as he pushed it in my direction, with the end result that it tipped over the edge of the table and fell into my lap.

Well, not quite. His hands shot out unbelievably fast and caught it. My slightly slower reflexes finally caught up and I found myself cradling both his cold hands and the microscope. My cheeks heated and my first instinct was to jerk away, but visions of Mr. Banner scolding me for the loss of valuable equipment danced in my head and I settled for carefully restoring it to the desk, then pulling my hands away as quickly as possible.

"Oops," he apologized, his voice as smooth as his quick save had been.

"Oops," I agreed ruefully, a smile quirking the corner of my mouth almost against my will.

"Nice catch," he complimented me. I squinted at him, uncertain about whether or not he was being sarcastic.

"I'm pretty sure you did all the heavy lifting," I contradicted. "I was just along for the ride."

"I'm sure you would have managed if I hadn't been around," he smiled, making the most direct eye contact we had had so far. Despite the blatant untruthfulness of his statement, I felt a warm little knot in my stomach.

I exaggeratedly looked down at his chair, then back up. One of his eyebrows twitched upward interrogatively and I hid a smirk. "I was checking to see if your pants were on fire."

His smile widened. "I think I would have noticed if they were."

"Speaking of science," I blatantly changed the subject, "we should probably be doing a little more of that." I wasn't able to tear my eyes away from his face, so hopefully redirecting him to the task at hand would make him turn his attention to the lab that we were doing instead of me.

It worked. Edward glanced back at the table and I could breathe again. He reached for the third slide and put it into the microscope, then gestured at it. "Your turn," he offered, not pushing anything toward me this time.

"It's… metaphase?" I guessed, after about ten seconds of assessment. If he had already identified anaphase, then this had to be metaphase. Or he had been wrong. That didn't seem likely, though.

"You sound uncertain," he teased gently. I flushed and looked again.

"Metaphase," I stated a second time, trying to sound more confident. It must have succeeded because instead of continuing his teasing, the boy beside me simply handed me the fourth slide. I swapped them out and poked the microscope tentatively toward him.

"It's…" he paused for nearly a full minute and I was rather surprised, given how knowledgeable he had seemed to be up until this point. "Telophase."

"So the last one has to be…" I quickly ran through the list in my head, "interphase, right?"

"Yep, that's all of them," he agreed with a smile.

"Cool." I reached for the paper we were supposed to fill out and began recording the correct answers. It took me a minute to see his hand, still outstretched as he had reached for the paper just too late. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do some?" I proffered the page, three spaces still blank.

"I mean, sure, I guess," he chuckled, accepting the assignment and whipping a pen into existence from somewhere. His writing was elegant and flowy in comparison to my girlishly rounded letters, and I momentarily regretted not letting him do all of the writing… but it was too late for that.

His lips curved gently as I glanced askance at him, and I wondered if he was laughing at me. I wasn't sure why he would be, but he probably was. No, that was nonsense. Why would Edward Cullen, of all people, care enough about me even to make fun of me? I was just his biology partner. Pshaw. My imagination was playing tricks on me.

Still, as I passed him in the hallway after Gym and again in the parking lot after school, I found myself wondering if I was just imagining the intensity of his eyes.


	6. Interlude

**A/N: I have no rights, Stephenie owns all, etc.**

* * *

 _Three hours and thirteen minutes until I can go home and stop listening. Eleven thousand, five hundred and eighty seconds. Seventy-nine. Seventy-eight. Seventy-seven._

"What do you think of the new girl?" Emmett asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had blanketed our table. I sucked in air, trying to think about anything except the way she moved, the way she smelled, the way she was a fragile creature who would die soon anyway and why not—

"I like her," Alice announced loudly. "I see nice things about her."

Jasper touched her hand lightly, his thoughts feathery with affection. "What do you see?"

"She loves her dad very much," the tiniest vampire present informed us. "She's a vegetarian. She likes books."

Rosalie snorted, visions of gushing blood in her head. "I wonder how horrified she would be."

"By our incessant consumption of books?" I kept my face as still and serious as only a vampire could. They didn't need to watch me struggle. "Very, I'm sure."

My blonde sister kicked me under the table, hard enough that I had to brace myself to keep the chair from flying backward. I made wide, innocent eyes at her, aware of Emmett's silent cackles – silent because Rosalie particularly disliked being laughed at.

"Will you… you know, be okay?" Jasper asked. As the usual weakest of the group, he could relate to my current position.

"Certainly." My smile was brittle, and I could hear him picking up on the threads of desire that made me anything but certain.

' _You could ditch again?'_ he offered, for my ears only. _'Nothing wrong with avoiding temptation.'_

No. I had promised myself, I had promised Carlisle, I knew I could be stronger than this. "I'll be fine," I said, knowing my reassurance was meant as much for myself as for anyone else at the table.

"Everyone is talking about the cougar attack," Jasper changed the subject, leaning forward and speaking quietly. "It's pretty clear that… you know." _That was no cougar._ It wasn't the sort of thing we could speak openly about at school.

"It wasn't any of us," Emmett shrugged. I had yet to see a situation that could faze him for more than a minute or two.

"No," Rosalie snapped, "which means someone else is hunting in our range." She was fiercely protective of the idea of innocent life. Those she deemed guilty, though, well… she didn't lose any sleep over them.

"What if Calgary happens again?" Alice's voice was anxious. "Isabella Swan just moved in with her dad, she'll be upset if he dies so soon."

"Calgary won't happen again," Jasper promised fiercely, though I could see him smoothing at Alice's worry, dissolving it to gentle concern. "For one thing, I would know if Maria were in the area."

"You didn't last time," Emmett pointed out.

"Last time I didn't have a spy," Jasper gritted. Being reminded of his last encounter with his ex-commander never left him in a pleasant mood. Now Alice was doing the soothing, her tiny fingers rubbing at the back of Jasper's neck.

" _-vampires-_ "

We all stiffened, glancing surreptitiously around the cafeteria to see where the word had come from. The voice was unfamiliar, low and pleasant, with a hint of sarcastic incredulity.

' _Of course, vampires aren't real, I'm not stupid, okay! Bella thinks she's so much better than me just because she's new, huh? I'll show her.'_

I relaxed. "False alarm. The new girl is swapping urban legends." Jessica Stanley's mind was a reliable source of play-by-play, and I saw Bella through her eyes, animatedly recounting the legend of the _chupacabra_ , one which was probably based at least somewhat in reality… although how anyone could mistake one of the immortal undead for a kangaroo-lizard-dog was beyond me. I stifled a snort as I imagined one of my siblings hopping as they hunted.

Everyone became less tense. The odds of a random human knowing something accurate about vampires were extremely slim, but you could never be too careful. Our existence depended upon secrecy and knowing more about those around us than they knew about us.

On that note, I straightened my shoulders and reached toward Bella Swan's mind. It was better that my first view of her thoughts be here, in the constraints of a crowded cafeteria, than in potentially close quarters during Biology. What was the infuriatingly delicious human thinking? It would likely be irritating, perhaps enough to put me off her entirely. Alternately, it might be intriguing, in which case I would know to guard myself carefully before sitting near her. Or perhaps I would be intrigued and pleased and loath to cause her any harm, which would give me strength.

I realized that in all my musings on what the contents of her mind might be, I had not actually heard anything from her. My eyebrows furrowed and I settled for a surreptitious glance toward her table. Yes, she was still there, smiling tentatively at Lauren, the girl whose thoughts had been so spiteful. I _listened_ as hard as I could, but still heard nothing. Were her thoughts really so quiet? Perhaps it was a matter of range, or unfamiliarity. I occasionally had difficulty with one human or another, such as the chief of police in town… who was Bella's father. Perhaps some genetic quirk or unknown ability made their thoughts more difficult to decipher.

The enigma that this posed was interesting enough that I began looking forward to Biology, instead of dreading close confinement with the enigmatic Bella Swan.


	7. Slip & Slide

**A/N: Wow, guys! Thanks so much for the positivity and the reviews. They really keep me going.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights reserved by Stephenie Meyer, etc.**

* * *

It was unusually bright when I opened my eyes on Thursday morning. I panicked, flinging myself out of bed and grasping desperately for my alarm clock. Had I overslept? A bleary glance at the time showed that no, I still had about ten minutes before I absolutely had to be awake. So why all the light? I stumbled to the window and peered out, then let out the most pitiful sound I'd heard from myself in a while.

It was _snowing_.

I'd considered the fact that it did, in fact, snow in Forks sometimes, but I hadn't expected to find myself this unhappy about it. I had spent so much time psyching myself up for the constant rain that I was unprepared for this. I made myself a mental note to try to avoid making assumptions that would come back to bite me in the ass.

I collapsed back onto the bed, draped an arm over my face, and groaned, loudly, for five of the ten minutes. Then I dragged myself up and into the shower, where I probably stayed longer than I should have. I turned the water up as hot as I could stand it, hoping to fortify myself against the cold that was guaranteed to hit me once I walked out the front door. I hadn't lived in a place where it routinely got below freezing in about ten years, and when I was old enough to choose where I lived, I would be sticking to the southern half of the United States.

I put on my thickest sweater and wedged a coat on over it, shoved my feet into wool socks under my sneakers, and dug out a pair of mittens and a warm winter hat, before filling my thermos as full of hot tea as I could manage.

If I didn't face the cold soon, I was going to be late. And _ugh_ , I realized, I was going to have to _drive_ in the _snow_.

"Stop being such a baby," I told myself sternly, standing in front of the door. "You're going outside, not to your execution." My body was unconvinced. It took all of my willpower to reach for the knob, turn it, and slowly open the door.

 _Brrrrrr._

I slipped and slid several times on my way to the truck. Only a combination of hanging onto everything around me and sheer concentrated willpower kept me on my feet. As I grabbed at the bed of the truck for the umpteenth time, I noticed that all four of the tires were covered with the silver pattern of chains. Charlie must have gotten up early just to make sure that I wouldn't die on the way to school. My stomach twisted into a funny little knot – I was used to being the one who took care of people, not the one who was taken care of.

After a minute of basking in gratitude, I realized I was standing stupidly in the cold air when I could be inside a warm truck. It was a relief to my poor frozen extremities when I finally clambered into my truck and started the engine. The air blowing over me was cold for now, but I knew from experience that it heated up very fast once I got underway.

The drive was unusually uneventful. The truck handled better over icy roads than I had expected, and I pulled into the school parking lot with the satisfaction of having avoided all of the nightmare scenarios I had dreamed up while in the shower. I parked, grabbed my bag, and exited the truck, glancing around to see if anyone was present to witness my inevitable humiliation. My side of the parking lot was completely deserted – everyone with any sense had parked closer to the school – save for one old minivan rounding the corner, so I faced forward and marched to my fate.

My feet went out from under me only a few steps into my icy trek towards the school. I screeched like a pterodactyl and tried – only somewhat successfully – not to flail. The world tilted at an alarming angle and then stilled abruptly as I hit the ground with enough oomph to render me breathless for a minute.

"Owwww," I groaned as soon as I was able. It didn't feel like I had broken anything, but I was cold and damp and sore and grumpy. I scrabbled ineffectually at the ground, trying to gain some kind of purchase with which to lever myself back into an upright position. By dint of gripping the wheel rim of the truck and something that felt uncomfortably like doing pull-ups, I managed to get myself back on my feet, and turned back toward the school to resume my trek.

Only, I didn't. Instead, I found myself staring straight into the headlights of a silently skidding car. Tyler's face, framed by the windshield, was frozen in an expression of horror that surely matched my own.

 _I'm going to die._

I didn't want to die.

In the span of about a second, I saw Charlie and Renee and Phil and Jackie from Phoenix and Jessica and Edward – wait, Edward? Edward Cullen was standing in front of me, shoving me backward. Dimly I heard the sound of metal and glass crunching and people beginning to scream, but it felt like everything was in slow motion compared to my movement. And then, for the second time in five minutes, I stopped abruptly and lost the ability to breathe.

Beside me, Edward was unwinding his scarf from around his neck and folding it. I struggled to grasp the meaning of his actions, but that kind of critical thinking was beyond my grasp. All I could do was stare numbly at where the hood of Tyler's car was crumpled up against my bumper. His airbag had deployed so I could no longer see his expression, though a small, detached part of my brain winced for his surely-broken nose. His windshield had shattered into a cascade of glass that was still falling with little _plink_ sounds. The truck looked surprisingly undamaged.

I was falling again. No, that wasn't right. This was not an uncontrolled descent. Something was carefully lowering me to the ground. My head rested on Edward's discarded scarf. I saw him leaning over me, draping his coat across me. Some part of me wanted to push it away and protest, but I knew it was in my best interests… and I couldn't seem to get my arms to move, anyway.

 _I'm not dead._

People were shouting things and hurrying around. I tried to make sense of it all, but it felt like I was trying to watch a foreign movie without subtitles. Then, sirens. An ambulance was pulling into the parking lot.

"… Bella, can you hear me?"

It was like coming up from the bottom of a swimming pool. What I was seeing and hearing came into focus, no longer blurry and confusing. Most pressingly, Edward was leaning over me, concern etched into his forehead. I blinked a few times and tried a small smile. Worry gave way to relief on his face and he backed away as a paramedic bore down on us.

"My name is Meg," she introduced herself. "What's going on here?"

"I'm- I'm-" I stammered, trying to convey that I wasn't hurt. I stopped, frustrated that I couldn't seem to make the words come out, and cast an imploring look at Edward.

"She wasn't directly involved in the crash," he filled in for me. My expression melted into gratitude. "I pushed her out of the way. She shouldn't be injured, but she's had an acute stress reaction."

 _Oh right._ He was a doctor's kid, wasn't he?

"All right, Miss Swan, can you sit up for me?"

I struggled weakly to my elbows, but it took me two tries to get myself into a sitting position and my head swam once I was propped upright.

"Good, good," she assured me, kneeling unflinchingly by my side despite the snow. "I'm going to take your pulse, so just sit still and breathe as normally as you can."

Once she had told me to breathe normally, I realized that I had been panting like a greyhound. I focused on getting it under control and Edward nodded approvingly as I calmed down.

"Your heart is beating pretty fast, but that's understandable given your recent fright. Is this your truck?"

"Y-y-yes." It was like I was a fourteen-year-old at Sadie Hawkins again. My tongue just wouldn't cooperate.

"It seems pretty sturdy – just like its owner," Meg smiled at me. "I'm going to take your blood pressure now. Just hold still for a minute, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Your blood pressure is high, but I'm not worried about it," she informed me after a moment. "How are you feeling?"

I took a deep breath, reached deep within myself to the reserves which had made it possible for me to put on a good face for Renee, and smiled my most convincing smile. "I'm feeling pretty okay, for someone who just almost died."

"I want you to drink a lot of water today," the EMT advised me with a kind smile. "You're going to be just fine."

She was gone as quickly as she had arrived, and I found myself wishing that I had as much energy as she seemed to have. Then I giggled, struck by the bizarre intrusion of that thought into my current situation. Edward's puzzled face pulled me back into a more serious frame of mind.

"How did you get here so quickly?" I asked, mildly curious. My last memory before the minivan incident had occurred was noting how empty the parking lot was. I felt sure that I would have spotted Edward Cullen if he had been lurking around. As a matter of fact, I was almost certain that his car, with an appropriate number of Cullens surrounding it, had been all the way at the other end of the school.

He turned a look of innocent confusion on me. "It wasn't that far, Bella. I was right over there," he gestured vaguely, "and I've sprinted faster in track and field meets."

I glanced in the direction he had waved towards, squinting suspiciously. There was nothing there now, and there had been nothing there the last time I had looked either. "Are you sure you were over there?" I pressed, my interest piqued. Although his every mannerism screamed of truthfulness, the facts just didn't quite add up, and that made the future journalist in me curious.

He looked frustrated, now, as if he was expecting something that hadn't happened. For an instant I regretted my decision to push, remembering how much it had irritated me when he had questioned my competency during Biology, but his next words completely dispelled any bad feelings I might have had. "I don't know what you're talking about," he nearly snapped. "I was standing right over there." His gesture was more specific now, designed to remove any question about where he had started from, but now I knew for certain that he was claiming to have been in an area that nothing, not even a parked car, had been.

"Nobody was there," I gritted. "I would have seen you if you were." I felt my chin jutting forward like an angry toddler, and tried to keep my expression pleasant.

"You're in shock, Bella," he informed me, and I could hear how hard he was trying to keep his voice calm and rational. "Experiencing confusion and distress is common after a near-death incident."

I paused for a moment, assessing his claim. I didn't feel confused, or distressed, or in shock. Perhaps it hadn't hit me yet. "I know what I saw," I insisted.

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this." He was placating now, trying to convince me that nothing had happened, nothing to worry about, I shouldn't concern myself. It only made me more convinced that there was something I should be thinking about, and more determined to figure out what had really happened.

"I don't like being lied to," I hissed, feeling my polite mask starting to slip.

"I don't like being called a liar," he hissed back, and I found myself inching away from him surreptitiously.

"Then you shouldn't tell lies!" I was aware that I sounded like a five-year-old. It was not one of my best comebacks. I shoved his coat and scarf at him, holding them out and refusing to make eye contact until he took them and stalked away without further acknowledgment.

I was _not_ done with this. No way, Jose. I picked myself stiffly up off the ice and slunk toward my first class of the day, now probably half over.

* * *

My English teacher had been forgiving, thankfully, Gov had been just fine – except for Tyler's absence – and Trig had been uneventful. Jessica walked me to the cafeteria as usual, though she seemed rather subdued in comparison with her normal bubbly self. I wasn't social enough to get her to talk, so we waited in line in companionable silence. As we headed toward our table, Alice Carter skipped past me, and I was possessed with a sudden burst of confidence. "Hey, Alice," I called, and she stopped obligingly to smile at me.

"Bella! Hi! I saw the accident, are you okay?" she asked, the words as rapid-fire as I had come to expect from her.

"Yes! I am. I had a weird question for you, though." I crossed my fingers behind my back for luck. "Has Edward ever been in track and field?"

She looked blankly at me. "No, why?"

"Oh, no reason." I probably should have come up with a reason for asking, but it had been so spur-of-the-moment that I hadn't. I was not good at spontaneity. "Good talking to you."

"Have a nice lunch!" she tossed over her shoulder, already hurrying away.

"What?" Jessica began, and then shook her head. I breathed a sigh of relief at not being asked to explain myself. I liked to think that Jessica and I were friends, but I wasn't really eager to sound like a crazy person as I laid out my suspicions about why Edward was lying about his ability to… to appear out of thin air. I wasn't sure what else to call it. Teleportation and super-speed were both comic book powers that came to mind, but I couldn't imagine either of them existing in real life.

We had arrived at the table while I had been musing. I sat down in my usual chair, prepared to quietly eat my salad, but suddenly I was the center of attention.

"Wow, Bella," Lauren started, her voice somewhat less caustic than usual, "you almost died. Are you okay?"

"Yes," I replied, less snippily than I would have liked. "As you can see, I have all of my limbs and about a gallon and a half of blood."

"Are you sure about that?" Mike challenged me. "That's an estimate for someone who weighs a hundred and fifty pounds. I think that—"

I ignored the rest of his words and started eating my salad. Around me, people estimated my body weight, argued over the percentage that was likely blood – scientific estimates put it at seven percent, apparently – and then converted it to measures of volume. I appreciated the ability to fade into the background in the aftermath of the accident. The next time I looked up, Mike winked at me, and I marveled at the way he had so quickly sidetracked everyone into a science fight.

"I'm glad you're okay," Jessica said suddenly. "Tyler's still in the hospital."

"How is he doing, do you know?" I asked, grateful for the snippet of information. It wasn't my fault that he had been injured, of course, but I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty all the same.

"His sister says he has a broken nose, broken wrist, concussion, and possible internal bleeding."

I wasn't sure if I had ever met Tyler's sister. I definitely didn't remember anyone who had been introduced to me as his sister. "I hope there isn't anything more serious. Tell her I'm thinking lots of good thoughts for him?"

"Will do," Jessica smiled at me. Her usual good nature seemed to be reasserting itself. I smiled back as the bell rang and chaos erupted around us. I dragged my feet on my way to Biology, not eager to sit next to Edward after our argument. He was already in his seat by the time I arrived, but as I sat down he pointedly leaned away from me, his sharp chin pointed stubbornly in the opposite direction. I balled up my hands into small fists, fighting the urge to demand what his problem was. I already knew the answer, though. _I_ was his problem, and I had no intention of letting that change. One way or another I was going to find out what in the _world_ was going on with Edward Cullen.


	8. Secrets and Lies

**Author's Note: I'm terrible at writing consistently. Shame on me. This material doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

"Hey, Bella, do you want to go to the beach tomorrow?"

Those were not words I had expected to hear during my time in Forks, let alone on a Friday night in January. I stared at my phone, momentarily speechless. Beaches were something you did in nice weather, right? The snow hadn't even completely melted yet. What was the point of a beach?

"Bella?" My long silence must have worried Jessica. She had asked me several times throughout the day if I was sure I didn't have a concussion, was I really okay, shouldn't I go to the doctor just to be safe. I had put on my most convincing smile and assured her that her fears were baseless and I was just fine, but my continued distraction by the mystery of how exactly Edward Cullen had just teleported across the parking lot with no warning specifically to save my life probably hadn't helped my case.

"I'm fine, just thinking about it," I reassured her. "Who's going?"

"Oh! Me and Mike, Lauren, Angela, Eric, Conner, Ashley, Whitney, Lee, Austin, Samantha, and Rob so far. Tyler was going to come but then the accident happened so we were going to postpone it for him but he said to go ahead and do it anyway and he'd come along the next time we do it and we'd really love for you to come too."

Just listening to her rattle off so many words in a row without a pause made me feel out of breath. I paused, weighed the options, and then made the stupid decision.

"Of course I'll go. Are we carpooling?"

"Yes!" Jessica sounded inordinately thrilled about my participation. "We're meeting up at the Newton's store at ten. It's about half an hour from there. Oh my gosh, it's going to be so much fun! The forecast says it's supposed to be rain so wear something waterproof."

"I will," I agreed, already regretting all of my life choices. "It'll be great."

"Eek! I can't wait! See you at ten!"

"The problem with Jessica," I remarked to myself after she hung up, "is that she uses too many exclamation points when she talks." It was vaguely reminiscent of Anne Shirley and her tendency to italicize every other word. Charming, but occasionally grating, especially when the topic of conversation was something that shouldn't be exclaimed about, except perhaps in the sense of _are you crazy?! It's January! Why would you go to the beach?!_

That night I dreamed I was drowning in an endless sea of fog and rain. Somewhere behind me, Edward Cullen stood, his arms still crossed and his eyes still narrowed. Every time I turned to talk to him, he disappeared as quickly as he came.

Jessica grinned brightly at me as I climbed out of the truck. "We're going to have so much fun!" she exclaimed. Her enthusiasm was entirely misplaced, in my opinion. Nobody should be that excited about a trip to a freezing cold beach.

We waited for a couple more people to arrive, then squeezed ourselves into Conner's mother's twelve passenger van, which was apparently a thing that existed. I couldn't remember ever having seen anything other than a bus that seated more than eight people, but Conner said he had seven brothers and sisters. That seemed like an unnecessarily large number, but who was I to judge a woman for her presumably free and informed life choices? It wasn't like I was doing so well with my own life. Between the thirteen of us, the bags of gear, and the three very long surfboards strapped to the roof, it was a tight fit.

The mood was raucous, but not overly so. Mike tried to lead the car in a rousing rendition of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer On The Wall," but Jessica wrestled him down and kissed him quiet, which he was more than happy to allow. Eric mimed throwing up from the floor where he sprawled between the driver and passenger seats. Lauren's only conversation topic was how excited she was for the next episode of _Gilmore Girls_ , which was apparently coming out soon. Rob scoffed and said that he couldn't understand why shows like that were still running when _Firefly_ was cancelled after only one season and _Twin Peaks_ only made it for two. He and Angela argued over whether either franchise would ever be rebooted – they were divided on whether or not the upcoming movie based off the _Firefly_ franchise should count. Somehow that led into a conversation about what each of us would do if we could read minds. Austin smirked and implied that he would be untroubled by ethical considerations. Lee talked about the possibilities for law enforcement, only looking pointedly at Austin once or twice. Mike asked for clarification about who the mind-reading would work on – animals, for example – and the conversation derailed into a philosophical discussion about animal cognition before I could mumble something about journalistic standards.

Something in the back of my mind reminded me that I couldn't expect to be a field reporter if I was barely able to maintain a conversation with friends, but I shut it down with the ease of long practice. I was working on stepping out of my comfort zone. It would come, with time.

The beach was every bit as cold as you would expect a beach in Washington to be during January. It hadn't rained yet, and while I was grateful for the small concession nature seemed to be making for me, I also wished it would just get it over with so I could be miserable instead of just anticipating misery. I climbed out of the van reluctantly, eying Jessica, Angela, and Mike as they hurried toward the waves, surfboards in tow. Eric jumped down next to me and shot me an understanding look.

"I love going to the beach," he said, "but they're just crazy. I surfed once and that was enough for me."

"It was a bit of a thing in Tampa," I agreed, "but I never got into it. Too much balance required for me to be able to handle it." Also, I was fourteen and nothing in the entire world would have induced me into a swim suit in public.

Eric's smile was knowing, and I blushed as I remembered tripping and catching myself on the edge of my desk in English on Wednesday. I mumbled an excuse and extricated myself from the conversation, ending up near Lee and Ashley as they stacked small logs in a makeshift circle of beach rocks. I stood there, wrapped in my own thoughts, while they got a fire going and Samantha produced a bag of s'more supplies from the van.

"Do you want one?"

I looked up, startled out of my reverie. Rob was holding out a pointed stick with a marshmallow on it.

"Oh, uh, sure," I stammered, taking it from him awkwardly. "I've never done this before, though."

"The trick is to set your marshmallow on fire and then eat it before all the sugar burns away," he said with a straight face.

"Shut up, Rob," Eric interrupted from his seat by the fire. "Bella, just hold it near the fire but out of the smoke. It'll turn GBD in a couple of minutes."

I smiled timidly and edged closer to the heat, trying to find a spot for roasting that was close but not too close. I wasn't afraid of fire but the idea of holding a flaming stick didn't overly appeal to me.

"Closer," Ashley encouraged me warmly. "Don't worry, if it falls off there's plenty more to replace it." She and Samantha shared a smile.

I inched the stick closer. It promptly caught on fire and I dropped it with a squeak.

"No harm done," Samantha said, handing me another stick with another marshmallow. "It takes practice to roast a perfect marshmallow."

I smiled vaguely, wondering how many tries it would take me to get a single s'more. The odds were not in my favor.

"Why don't you let me handle that?" a voice from behind me asked. "Handing Bella something that pointy is just asking for a disaster."

I spun around, both insulted and delighted. Jacob stood there, grinning brightly. A couple of other Quileutes stood behind him, but none that I could put a name to. As I stood, uncertain of how to respond, he strode forward and offered one hand imperatively.

"If I don't do it myself I'll never learn how," I protested, pulling the stick away from him. The marshmallow caught on fire again, but this time I yanked it out and blew on it before much damage had been done.

"Looks like a great s'more to me," Ashley reassured me, holding out half a graham cracker with a piece of chocolate on top. "Put 'er there."

I was confused, but did as instructed. She clapped another half cracker on top, pulled the whole thing backward, and we ended up with one s'more and one slightly sticky stick between us. She deftly traded objects with me and all in a moment I found myself holding the fruits of my labor.

It was _delicious_. I scarfed the whole thing down in two bites while Lee whistled and clapped.

"Oh my god, that's so good," I enthused. I hadn't been expecting to find anything particularly enjoyable about this trip, but it appeared that my doom-and-gloom had been inaccurate.

"Have you never had a s'more before?" Samantha asked, sounding a little shocked.

I blushed. Living in apartments with a hard-working single mom hadn't been conducive to going places or building fires, and the only thing Charlie cooked over fires was fish.

"I know for a fact that you've never eaten sushi before," Eric countered Samantha on my behalf, and I shot him a grateful look.

She made a face. "Raw fish isn't my idea of good food."

"You never know until you try," Rob disagreed. "I thought I hated broccoli until I turned ten and-"

Samantha threw a marshmallow at him. He caught it neatly in his mouth and made a defiant face. "I won't be silenced so easily!" he protested around his mouthful.

We were all laughing as the other non-surfing group walked up. Connor and Eric bumped fists gently while Whitney grabbed a s'more stick of her own.

"Can we burn some driftwood?" Lauren asked plaintively. "The colors are prettier."

Jacob shook his head decisively, even though the fire was not his. "The reason driftwood fires change colors is because of the potassium chloride in ocean water."

"You don't want it in your lungs," the taller of his friends added. His voice was deep and authoritative, and I couldn't help but feel that I must have seen him somewhere before. I couldn't place him, though.

"What they said," Rob echoed, pointing at Jacob with both hands. Jacob pointed back, and they shared a brief moment of camaraderie.

"Whatever." Lauren rolled her eyes and flopped down on one of the logs by the fire. Austin and Connor briefly jostled for position next to her.

Jessica came up just then, a thick towel wrapped around her wetsuit. "The surf's great!" she announced brightly. "Anyone wanna borrow my board and try it out?"

I carefully avoided eye contact, fearing that she might push me to be adventurous, but Samantha saved me.

"I'll give it a shot," the tall girl volunteered. "I've gone a few times before."

"All yours!" Jessica chirped, gesturing to where her surfboard leaned up against the van. "Don't eat it!"

Samantha jogged away and Jessica crowded up to the fire, tucking the towel under her arms and holding her hands out toward the warmth.

"Bella," Lauren called across the fire, "is it true you called Edward Cullen an asshole after he saved your life?"

Suddenly I was the center of attention. I grimaced, wishing the ground would turn into quicksand and swallow me whole.

"First things first," Jacob interjected, " _saved your life_? What's that about?"

He apparently hadn't heard it from Charlie, which surprised me. I had been under the impression that Charlie and Billy talked about nearly everything.

"Just a little car accident," I mumbled. "Tyler's car was skidding on the ice and he pulled me out of the way." I hated giving him that much credit, seeing as how rude he had been afterward. "And I didn't call him an asshole." Just a liar.

"Aww, then maybe I should have invited him on this trip. I only didn't because I didn't want it to be _weird_ for you two," Lauren simpered. I discovered that I was grinding my teeth.

"The Cullens don't come to the beach anyway," Jacob's tall friend said flatly. It was just a statement of fact, no more and no less, but it piqued my curiosity.

"Why not?" Jessica asked, also sounding curious. "Aren't they super into outdoorsy stuff?"

"Sam," Jacob said, "weren't you going to see Leah?" I imagined that I could hear a note of warning? wariness? in his voice.

Sam bristled, ever so slightly, but then nodded. "You know, I was just on my way out. Quil, you coming?"

The third member of their trio agreed hastily and they headed off.

"Sorry about that," Jacob said. "Sam has this theory that Midwesterners are all secretly afraid of the ocean, since they didn't grow up around it."

He was lying. I wasn't quite sure how I could tell, but I was absolutely certain of it. I could practically feel my ears perking.

Jessica laughed merrily. "My family is from the Midwest and, as you can tell, I'm not bothered in the slightest."

Jacob smiled, but I was positive that he was faking it. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

That was it. I was going to find out why he was lying if it was the last thing I did. Of course, when people said that in movies, it usually was the last thing that they did. Oh well.

"Hey, Jacob, want to go for a walk?" I asked, trying to be subtle. He didn't seem to notice any ulterior motives, though, as he nodded agreeably and we slipped away from the fire together. I immediately regretted it, since the temperature away from the fire was absolutely miserable and we were surrounded by wind and fog.

We walked in silence for a few minutes while I tried to think of a way to get the information I wanted. If this were a movie, the heroine would be using her feminine wiles and luring the unsuspecting male into doing whatever she wanted. That wasn't an option for me, though.

"Does Sam know the Cullens?" I asked first, testing the waters.

Jacob looked surprised. "I don't think anyone on the rez knows them. We try to stay away from the hospital when Dr. Cullen is on shift –" he stopped suddenly, as though he had already said too much. "Don't tell Charlie about that, though," he added.

"Why not? If they're… a problem… wouldn't he be the person to talk to?" I asked, trying not to sound too pushy.

Jacob huffed. "I don't expect you to understand this, Bella, but the Cullens are bad news."

"But _why_?" I pressed. "Are they really racist? Do they have plans to gentrify the city? Are they performing illegal experiments on hospital patients? Are they secretly warlocks?"

Jacob looked like he was trying not to smile for a minute, but then the smile won. "Something like that," he said, then continued as I tried to respond. "No, no, Bella, this isn't any of your business and you shouldn't worry about it."

I narrowed my eyes. There was no more effective way to tempt me to pursue this issue further. "Watch me."

"Promise me," and Jacob's voice was strangely urgent, "that you won't say anything to Charlie."

"I can't promise that!" I protested. "If they're criminals, he needs to know!"

"Just… just don't mention this to him," he pleaded. "It's not that kind of thing."

"If you would tell me what kind of thing it was, we wouldn't be having this conversation," I hissed back.

He threw up his hands. "Bella, you're impossible."

I was tired of boys lying to me for indeterminate reasons. "I don't think that's the issue here."

"Just… god. Bella, please leave this alone."

"Fine," I spat. If they could lie, I could do it too. "Whatever." Now I just sounded like Lauren.

He studied my face, his expression uncertain. "Bella," he began, but I didn't want to hear it.

"I'm going back to the fire," I announced, then turned away without waiting to see if he was following.

The rest of the trip was exactly as bad as I had expected. That night, I lay in bed and promised myself that I would never go to the beach again.


End file.
